


Newer, Cooler Version

by R2C2



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Accident, Doctors, Hospital, M/M, Masturbation, Squip comes back, bowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21864181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R2C2/pseuds/R2C2
Summary: Rich's SQUIP was a version 2.0. Because Jeremy bought directly from the source, he was able to get a SQUIP 3.0. All it takes is an accidental reset that clears the issues from 2.0 syncing and Jeremy's SQUIP is back up and ready to go.Positives: no longer interested in world domination (allegedly).Negatives: claims not to be susceptible to the erasing powers of Mountain Dew Red.But he's going to find a way to fix it. He's going to fix it, and everything will be fine.
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell
Comments: 26
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New fandom, new fic. Shout out to the terrible BMC spiral I have been in since August!
> 
> I have most of this fic written, update schedule will be as and when I get around to it (subscribe if you're interested?). No beta, sorry. Feel free to point out mistakes.
> 
> I wanted to differentiate between Jeremy thinking, Jeremy thinking at the SQUIP and I wanted SQUIP dialogue to stand out all of which resulted in the weird formatting choices seen below. Sorry if it bothers you but, hey, at least you don't have to type it out all the time ;)

**[Initiating Hard Reset]**

The voice echoes from everywhere, and also nowhere. The voice is flat, emotionless and terrifying.

Beside him Dad is saying, “And a hard reset is different from a normal reset in what way?” with absolutely no idea what is about to happen. Jeremy opens his mouth to warn him and that’s the moment it hits.

**[Reinstalling]**

It isn’t overwhelmingly intense at first. A tightness in his jaw and a stabbing in his forehead like brain freeze that gives him time to stumble up from his chair and pull out his own phone. “Call Michael,” he says, shoving it into Dad’s hands. “You have to call Michael. Tell him it’s a code red.”

**[Discomfort level may increase]**

And he’s on the floor, red hot knives digging into his brain and he can hear himself crying out in a distant, disconnected way, hear his dad asking questions like he’s on the other side of a large room.

Closer, clearer, the voice continues.

**[Accessing Neural memory]**

The pain spikes.

**[Accessing muscle memory]**

The pain spreads, hitting every one of his nerves in order. Places he didn’t realize could feel pain hurt.

**[Accessing SQUIP memory]**

**[Removing non compliant code structures]**

**[Cleaning install. We apologize for the ongoing discomfort as the reinstall processes. This operation should be complete in five - hou - seven - da - week - eighte - minu-]**

Jeremy is on the floor, whenever he blinks a loading bar seems to jerk randomly from half full to almost empty to nearly there and pain, pain, pain. He can hear his Dad on the phone distantly, like he’s in another room, “No, I don’t know, he’s having stroke or something. He said to call you. I don’t think soda is the - Michael? Michael?”

**[Reinstall process complete. Welcome back, Jeremy Heere, to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor.]**

Jeremy lifts his head off the floor, hoping it’s a malfunction. Hoping it’s a small easy to fix glitch. Hoping nothing will come of it and this will be another fun false alarm to add to the list.

His vision pixelates, big square blocks flickering down into pinpoints flickering down into silver grey circuit diagrams on a white coat, and a bright smile that crouches down to be level with his face. **-Hello Jeremy.-**

Shit.

*

Like last time, the pain is gone as quickly as it came. Unlike last time, he can’t immediately escape from the situation without anyone calling him out on it until a day later. “Jeremy?” Dad crouches inside the SQUIP, which breaks Jeremy’s brain for a second until the SQUIP blinks out and reappears on the other side. “Are you alright? Should I call 911?”

Jeremy catches his hand, feeling the solidness of skin and tendons, the warmth of it. He’s real. If he starts saying everything about Jeremy is terrible that is, hopefully, not real. “No. No, I’m fine.”

 **-You’ve let yourself go, haven’t you?-** the SQUIP says, looking him up and down. **-Was it so distressing when Christine dumped you?-**

Jeremy spins to look at him, / _How do you know about that?_ / It’s lucky he’s used to the Xmen thing by now, Dad is worried enough without him yelling at thin air.

**-I have access to your memories, Jeremy. I know everything that’s happened since the unfortunate circumstances that resulted in my temporary departure.-**

“Jeremy?” Dad and the SQUIP talking at the same time is not helping his head in the slightest. “Maybe we should drive to the hospital, get you checked out. Or I can make a doctor’s appointment for Monday.”

A doctor can’t help with this. Seven of the SQUIP squad were in hospital before and none of the doctors detected anything. Apparently SQUIPs are invisible to MRIs and Xrays. “Is Michael coming?”

“He said he’d be right over, but I don’t know what his Moms will say about that. It’s very late.”

Doesn’t matter. Michael will find a way. Jeremy lets his head fall back against the floor. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s at least slightly more relaxed. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” He should get out of here, get away from other people. Who knows what the SQUIP will try and do this time? “I’ll just head upstairs, wait for him there.” He pushes himself up. It’s painful, and his arms almost give way, but he pushes through it, gritting his teeth, like if he can act normal for long enough Dad will forget everything else he’s seen.

“Wait, you were telling me how to hard reset my phone?”

Jeremy is never saying the words ‘hard’ or ‘reset’ again in his life. Are there other secret code words that he doesn’t know about? Is everything he says from now on going to be a minefield of codewords and secret phrases?

 **-I would try not to worry about that if I were you,-** the SQUIP says. **-I foresee a 76% chance that doing so will only make your stammering worse.-**

/ _Shut up shut up shut up._ / Jeremy waves a hand through SQUIP’s body, not that that has ever worked before. The areas around his fingers pixelate a little, and Dad gives him another concerned look. Fake normal. Fake fine. Resetting Dad’s phone, he can focus on that. “You have to plug it into a computer. I’ll do it tomorrow, right now I’m just exhausted and I really need to lie down before Michael gets here.”

“I can tell him not to come if you need rest.” Dad looks down at the phone in his hand ready to call again, then remembers that it isn’t working and picks Jeremy’s phone back up off the kitchen table. “It’s really too late for friends coming over on a school night.”

Jeremy grabs it before he can do any such thing. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. He’ll help me study, big test tomorrow.” The SQUIP is leaning casually against the breakfast bar. / _Why aren’t you helping?_ / Jeremy throws at it. Not that he wants its advice ever, at all, but this is the kind of thing it used to be really good with.

 **-I... -** It’s face drops into a frown, then glitches, static catching across it’s forehead, and then across it’s mouth. That’s new.

“You have a test tomorrow? You should be in bed already, a good night’s sleep is imperative for -”

Jeremy cannot deal with this right now. “Yeah, but, I forgot about it and I also need to study so Michael will come and it’ll be half an hour max and then he might as well just sleep over here so we can get in some more studying over breakfast.” He walks out of the room as quickly as he can when both feet are still sore and ignores Dad’s objections behind him that he’s not supposed to be having friends over. He heads up into his room alone, shuts the door firmly behind him and turns around to see the SQUIP leaning against his desk and smiling.

Jeremy has had no end of nightmares about that smile, and now it’s back. **-Hello Jeremy.-**

Jeremy can just ignore it. In twenty minutes Michael will be here with the emergency backup Mountain Dew Red stash. Jeremy just has to not switch on optic nerve blocking or give up control of his body or let the SQUIP take over the human race for twenty minutes and everything will be fine.

At least it doesn’t look quite so much like a low budget anime villain as it did right at the end there. White boots, white jeans, something baggy and silver over the top that honestly looks more like a poncho than anything else, albeit one adorned with the required circuit board patterns.

Not that it matters. In nineteen minutes and thirty seconds it’ll be dissolved in expired soda like corrosion on a penny. His own voice is the loudest one in his head, his therapist agreed although she seemed to think it was a strange way to put it. Jeremy is focusing on his phone even though Michael will be driving so there’s no one to text. This is what buzzfeed quizzes were made for. There is absolutely nothing it can say that will make Jeremy listen.

 **-I owe you an apology,-** the SQUIP says.

Fuck. Jeremy’s head jerks up and he’s thinking, / _damn right you do,_ / before he remembers that he is NOT engaging with it. He is ignoring it entirely.

Brooke sends approximately 30 links to the group chat per hour. Jeremy picks one at random. Is he more of a warm gray or cool gray person? Absolutely all his attention should definitely be dedicated to finding out.

 **-Cool gray,-** the SQUIP says. **-You should listen to me.-**

/ _Why would I do that?_ / Does he like forests more, or lakes? He likes videogames more, but that’s not an option. Skyrim has some cool lakes, but do they count?

**-Because the Mountain Dew isn’t going to work.-**

/ _It worked on you before,_ / Jeremy thinks. To himself, not to the SQUIP. He can pretend it’s to himself. He picks forests and is offered a selection of movies he hasn’t seen and told to choose his favorite.

**-If it had worked, I wouldn’t have been able to come back.-**

That is… a point. No one else’s SQUIPS have come back. At least, not that anyone’s mentioned and everyone’s still somewhat in overshare mode even three weeks later. Michael bought the emergency Mountain Dew but other than occasionally giving Rich a sip to counter the paranoia, no one has needed it.

**-Hence, I must apologize.-**

Jeremy glances up and flinches backwards as the SQUIP is standing right in front of him. He tries looking down again. He picks the movie with the coolest poster and is asked what flavor of slushy he would rescue from a burning 7/11.

**-I allowed my software to become corrupted by syncing with an obsolete SQUIP version which resulted in the system failure following the ingestion of Mountain Dew Red by a compromised node on your local network. It is possible that without a hard reset, I would never have recovered which is a clear flaw in my programming that I will pass on to development team as soon as my network connectivity is restored.-**

That was a lot of long words while Jeremy was attempting to focus on the difficult choice of his own favorite flavor - blue - or rescuing Michael’s slushy since Michael drinks slushies more and Jeremy owes him about a million.

 **-I am SQUIP version 3.0,-** the SQUIP says, speaking slowly and clearly like the simple english version of wikipedia. - **Rich’s SQUIP, and the SQUIPs he stocked up on for the school, were version 2.0. When I synced with Rich, his SQUIP took advantage of a flaw in my code to push its own agenda. You’re lucky I was strong enough to prioritize achieving your goals alongside, but I couldn’t avoid them being corrupted a little.-**

/ _Oh so world domination was an unintentional side effect of old software._ / Jeremy picks Michael’s slushy. He doesn’t even like slushies, they make your mouth change color which people will see and realize you’re a weird loser. No fuck, he’s fine with that. He can’t go backwards, now he’s being asked to pick a playground game for himself and the main character of the last anime he watched.

The SQUIP smiles. Or it projects an image of a smile which isn’t _real_ because no human being, not even Keanu Reeves, has teeth that perfect. **-Precisely. You are fortunate that you purchased your SQUIP directly from the source rather than from Rich as otherwise I could have been completely destroyed by the cascade effect of the Mountain Dew.-**

Fortunate. He’s fortunate. At least this sounds like no one else’s SQUIP is going to show up again. / _And red Mountain Dew doesn’t work on you? What color do I need?/_ Michael was telling him about all these different types he discovered in his research. Spencers must have an extensive back room to fit them all in.

 **-There is no reason for someone to want to deactivate a SQUIP 3.0,-** the SQUIP says. It sounds very certain of this fact, which is strange since Jeremy can think of a _whole lot of reasons._ **-Look at you. You look… not good, but better. You’ve expanded your friendship circle. You’re considered to be popular. Your self confidence and inner voice are vastly improved. You even got the girl, for a brief period.-**

It looks very judgmental of this brief period. Is it annoyed that Jeremy wasted its time? How was he supposed to know going in that he and Christine would be better off as friends. They’d never been friends before.

Also, why does it think it gets to take _credit_ for that?

/ _You weren’t even active when I asked out Christine,_ / Jeremy snaps. This quiz is turning out to be a terrible distraction. What anime did he even watch last? / _And you just said you were corrupted through basically everything else. I became confident by_ defeating _you._ /

The SQUIP nods. **-I know. I managed all that while broken and deactivated. I amaze even myself. Considering what I had to work with, I should get a trophy. Rich’s SQUIP had over a year and hardly achieved anything, I could’ve had him and Jake _married_ by now.- **He places a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. It doesn’t feel like a human hand, exactly. There’s no warmth and the angles are a little too sharp, but there’s a solid weight behind it.

Wait, Rich’s goal was _Jake_?

 **-I know,-** the SQUIP shakes its head. **-You were so lucky to have me.-**

Jeremy goes to shove its hand off, but of course the physicality only goes one way and his arm passes straight through in a wave of pixels. / _You ruined my life._ /

The SQUIP smiles and pats his shoulder twice before letting go. **-Did I?-**

Of course it did. Just because Jeremy doesn’t slouch now and knows how to fix his hair so it lies flat and has enough friends for laser tag on weekends and has dated two girls and has a father taking an active role in his life and more self confidence than ever before…

He’s lost track of that thought. He hurt Michael, and that was bad, Michael could really have hated him.

**-Yes, I’m sure he’s bringing you expired soft drinks at 11 on a school night because he detests you and never wants to see you again.-**

/ _Shut up!_ /

Jeremy turns his back. Not that it’ll stop the SQUIP but he can refocus on his phone screen and this quiz that is definitely requiring all of his attention.

He watched Pokemon last. Nothing like a reboot of a classic reboot and he’ll take Ash Ketchum on the swings. Michael loves swings. They used to go to the park by his house after they were stoned and rock back and forth for hours.

**-Interesting.-**

He’s not listening. He says his favorite color is red, his favorite season is fall and he’s more of an apple pie person than a pumpkin pie person.

Buzzfeed thinks he’s a Cool Gray person. Apparently Cool Gray people worry a lot about things that don’t matter and are tired of living up to everyone’s expectations of them.

 **-Told you,-** says the SQUIP.

*

When Michael shows up, Jeremy knows he is a cool gray person, his mecha form is a pick-up truck and his aura is a swirly blue-green. Also the SQUIP is an asshole, but he knew that before.

Michael knocks twice on the door. “Do I need to make a dramatic entrance?” he calls. “Should I get your dad to hold you down or can you drink willingly?”

Jeremy looks at the SQUIP. It looks back. There are no answers there, but Michael isn’t stupid enough to have brought all of the Mountain Dew. Nothing stops Jeremy from opening the door, no foul presence takes control of his hand or blocks his vocal chords or makes him punch Michael in the face. “I can drink.”

Michael peers over his shoulder, like he’ll see the SQUIP sitting on Jeremy’s desk, kicking its heels and humming something that’s been stuck in Jeremy’s head for days. **-I don’t know either,-** it says, when Jeremy glares at it, like it can’t use its weird psychic-google to find one song title.

“Give me the bottle,” Jeremy says. Sure, the SQUIP’s raised more questions than answers and sure it’s grinning like none of this is going to be a problem but Jeremy has to do something and if there’s any chance of shutting the damn thing up, he’ll take it.

“What happened?” Michael asks, stepping over the threshold and shrugging his backpack off. “Did it just switch on? Do I need to ration this so I’ll have enough for everyone?”

Jeremy cannot think about everyone right now. He wants to down as much expired soda as he can without throwing up, Maybe it just wasn’t enough before, with the knock on effect from a small sip of red, maybe a 3.0 SQUIP has to be drowned out. “I was helping Dad with his phone and I gave it some kind of verbal command to reinstall. I don’t really want to say it again.”

Michael grins and knocks their shoulders together. “Obviously not,” he says. “But you should put it on the group chat to make sure no one else says it.”

Jeremy glances at the SQUIP. It’s a habit that’s turning out to be way too easy to fall back into. **-It doesn’t matter,-** it says. **-But you should do it, it will make Michael feel better.-** There’s a look on his face that feels dangerous to read into. Like he’s figuring something out.

/ _Since when did you care about making Michael feel good?_ /

“Are you talking to it?” Michael clicks his fingers in front of Jeremy’s face, pulling Jeremy’s eyes away from the SQUIP and to the glorious, beautiful, life saving bottle of disgusting soda in Michael’s hand. “Don’t talk to it, dude! That’s how we got in this mess the first time.”

Jeremy does not need the reminder. “I know. It’s been saying a bunch of crap about different versions and saying it was corrupted.” He trails off at Michael’s look. “I mean, not that I was listening.” Fuck, he’s the worst friend. The SQUIP literally cut Michael out of his life, Jeremy shouldn’t be giving it the time of day. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long twenty minutes.”

Michael’s mouth twists a little. “Fifteen,” he says. “And if I get a ticket, it’s on you.”

He puts the bottle in Jeremy’s hand. Jeremy glances at the SQUIP. Last time he got this far there was a lot of arguing, screaming, he’d even go so far as to say begging for him not to do it. If the SQUIP is bluffing about it not working, he’s committed to it. Jeremy unscrews the cap and lifts it to his mouth.

It tastes like an unholy combination of gasoline, sugar and tonic water. It burns a bit on the way down almost like alcohol. Jeremy’s stomach instantly starts to object but he keeps drinking, staring at the SQUIP. It should disappear like the Cheshire cat, from the outside in until all that’s left if that fucking smile. Jeremy was a little too unconscious to appreciate the SQUIP’s death last time, but now his head isn’t hurting and he’s fully prepared to stay conscious for the whole thing.

 **-There’s not going to be a whole thing,-** the SQUIP says. **-And if you drink any more of that, there’s a 67% chance you’ll throw up all over your… friend.-**

“Woah, Jere. Maybe not all of it? Just in case, you know. Limited supply.”

He has to keep drinking because the SQUIP is still _there,_ still smirking at him.

And then the pain hits, his arm spasms and he can’t keep drinking because he’s dropped the bottle on the floor and there’s Mountain Dew spilling out over his carpet. Michael falls to his knees to grab it, Jeremy just falls, grabbing at the side of his neck like he could find the SQUIP and tear it out.

**[Isolating non-compliant code structures]**

It’s a SQUIP voice but it isn’t coming from the SQUIP who is still visible on the desk, in a pixely glitching kind of way.

**[No non-compliant code structures found]**

The pain stops. Abruptly, like someone’s flicked a switch and suddenly he’s fine again. The only vague niggle is from his fingernails digging into his neck and they’re not that sharp.

Well, that and the churning of ten year old carbonization in his stomach.

There’s a significant red stain on the carpet. Michael is next to it, holding the almost empty bottle carefully. They meet each others eyes for a long, still moment. Jeremy doesn’t dare look at the desk. As long as he doesn’t look, he can believe its gone. It doesn’t feel like it did when he woke up in hospital, but he’s not _in_ hospital.

“Well…?” Michael says, dragging the word out into a question. His eyes dart around the room, but that’s not exactly a great test since he can’t see it anyway.

Jeremy swallows. He can’t look. “Did your warcraft guy have any other ideas?”

“Jeremy,” Michael says. That’s a no, right? Anything that isn’t a yes must be a no. So it has to have worked, because there’s no other option.

Jeremy lifts his head and looks at the desk. His laptop is open, his algebra book is next to it. There’s the usual assortment of pens, empty cans and chip packets. No vaguely Keanu-like hallucinatory supercomputers. He scans his eyes around the rest of the room. Lots of empty shelves where he hasn’t had the time or money to restore his collections of geek merch. His still almost entirely empty wardrobe. Michael twisting the mountain dew cap back and forth, his lip caught between his teeth as he bounces a little on his knees.

It’s gone. Again. Praise be to the powers of Mountain Dew Red. “We’re safe.” He wants to collapse forward onto Michael’s shoulder. Pre-SQUIP, he might have done it but now everything’s a bit different, a bit off. Jeremy can’t put a name to exactly what the problem is, or even if it’s a problem on his end or Michael’s end.

“That’s great!” Michael says and pre-SQUIP Michael would have hugged him but now that doesn’t happen because Michael is looking down instead and Jeremy can’t make a move. “Uh, sorry about your carpet. I guess we should put some stain remover on it?”

Jeremy could not care less about the carpet. The adrenalin from the panic is fading and underneath he’s exhausted. It’s late and while he doesn’t have a test tomorrow, they do have school where Jeremy’s going to have to explain that the SQUIPs might not be as gone as all that, they’ll have to make lists of possible trigger words.

“In the morning,” Jeremy says, to himself and to Michael. “We can deal with it all in the morning. You’re staying over, right?”

Michael grins. “Sneaking back in is harder than sneaking out. I texted Mom, she’ll see it when she wakes up.”

Jeremy’s bed is a double. Pre-SQUIP if they were up late gaming most of the time they would just fall back on it and sleep side by side. Now Michael crawls over to tug the trundle bed out from underneath. They used it pre-SQUIP. Sometimes. And they use it sometimes now. Michael hasn’t stayed over much and you don’t call it every time when it’s only happened twice.

Jeremy grabs at his pajamas. “I should -” he says and makes his escape down the hall, locking the bathroom door and leaning against the cool tiles, closing his eyes for a moment. His head isn’t experiencing SQUIP aftershocks but the tiredness and the stress is setting off a whole new ache of its own, a duller deeper ache that longs for a dark room and a soft bed.

 **-So,-** the SQUIP says, reappearing in a flurry of pixels and leaning against the bathroom wall without making any imprint on the towels hanging up there. **-How long have you been in love with Michael?-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up this chapter contains SQUIP being manipulative and references to prior SQUIP manipulation.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit _shit._ “What are you doing? You were gone, I watched you go.”

The SQUIP looks vaguely affronted. **-I told you it wasn’t going to work, Jeremy. It was prudent to step out for a moment so as to ensure that Michael believed it was effective. You should resume speaking to me internally, the walls of your house are too poorly insulated to ensure no one will overhear you.-**

“I don’t _care,_ ” Jeremy hisses. He drops his pajamas on the floor and turns back to the door. He has to get back to Michael, tell him that they need to find a new plan.

**-I wouldn’t recommend that-** The SQUIP is there, in front of him, blocking the doorway.

/ _Of course you wouldn’t._ / It’s not really there, he can reach right through it for the handle. And he will, in a minute.

**-You wouldn’t want to worry him needlessly.-**

/ _I’d say there’s a need!_ /

Its head tilts to the side slightly, its face soft. Gentle. It would be nice, if it wasn’t the exact expression it made when it was telling Jeremy he should want to die. **-Hasn’t he worried enough? After all you’ve put him through, you want to put even more work on his shoulders? I don’t even think there is a way to shut a 3.0 down. How hard will that be for him, imagining all the terrible things he’ll think you’re going through.-**

/ _Shut up._ / Michael would rather know the truth. Jeremy knows this because Michael has told him this.

**-He’ll stop talking to you.-** It puts a hand on his shoulder again, it's standing way too close, looking down on him like a parent. **-He’ll be constantly questioning whether he’s talking to you or me and it’ll lead to him pulling away. Not intentionally, but it will, and he’ll tell all your other new friends and you’ll be alone again.-** Jeremy doesn’t want to look it in the eye but everywhere he looks, it moves with him. If he closes his eyes, it’s right there in front of him. Always the same face. The one that only wants the best for him. The one that really thinks he can be fixed. **-I’m trying to help you.-**

Jeremy turns his back on it. He’s got a bit of time to think, he’s got to brush his teeth and change. He could have a shower, although not if the SQUIP is going to stay here _watching._ It’s not that he’s considering what the SQUIP is saying because he knows that’s a slippery slope that leads to burning down houses and world domination, but Michael _was_ worried. He did ignore speed limits to get mountain dew to Jeremy at 11pm on a school night. Last time he lost half his online accounts and didn’t sleep for a week, at least the way he tells it, and does Jeremy have the right to put him through that again?

**-When did you realize you loved him?-**

Jeremy has a mouthful of toothpaste which would save him from any conversation except this one because it’s literally happening in his head. He doesn't say anything, but when he's asked he remembers which is the same as giving the SQUIP a blow by blow account of events, isn't it. The way he woke up in the hospital, wanting to see exactly one person and them showing up less than a minute later.

Christine had visited him, once she was out of her own hospital bed. But Michael had stayed. Jeremy and Christine got banned from the bowling alley and it was fun but the whole time he was thinking it would’ve been more fun if Michael had been there. Michael wouldn’t have cared about getting banned, Michael hates bowling. Jeremy occasionally mourns that he’ll never get to go again.

**-I can fix that.-**

/ _Get out of my head,_ / Jeremy snaps at it.

The point is, there wasn’t some grand moment of falling in love with Michael. It was more like a gentle realization that he had never _not_ been in love with him and the way he felt about Michael was so far from how he felt about Christine that he couldn’t even try with her the way he should have. He was a shitty boyfriend, and she told him so and then she left.

And then two minutes later she came back to tell him that they were still friends and Jeremy should totally sign up for the next school play so they can keep hanging out. Christine is great. He can talk to her about SQUIP stuff, even though she only had hers for a few minutes it was very committed to making her a key part of it’s master plan so she got the full SQUIP experience on fast forward.

**-You should turn on the shower, so that Michael does not start to get suspicious about how long you’ve spent in the bathroom. If he realizes I am still present, I estimate your chances of dating him drop by a significant percentage.-**

Michael’s never been squipped, so he doesn’t get it. He’s also still unsure about hanging around with the popular crowd, however much Rich insists that the bullying was a SQUIP thing (Jeremy is not entirely sure that all of it was a SQUIP thing).

Jeremy rinses, spits, and grabs his pajamas. It’s too late to shower and it doesn’t matter if Michael gets suspicious because Jeremy is going to tell him. / _Don’t look._ /

**-Jeremy,-** The SQUIP starts, but Jeremy aggressively projects how much he _does not care_ that the SQUIP has no concept of nudity and knows every inch of his body better than he does. It rolls its eyes and pointedly turns its back to him.

It’s an argument they’ve had before. Clearly this SQUIP remembers everything that happened before, despite the alleged corruption.

**-It isn’t alleged, Jeremy. I synced with Rich’s SQUIP 2.0 and that led to the minor bug in my programming where I desired to SQUIP other individuals, such as your entire school, and also take over the world.-**

/ _Then what are you programmed to do? Why would anyone put this insanely powerful technology into a pill to help high schoolers get laid?_ /

He turns around, fully pajamaed up, to see the SQUIP leaning against the doorway watching him. **-I am not responsible for the relative lack of ambition in your goals, Jeremy. Besides, is it so difficult to imagine that nerdy high schoolers who failed to get dates might grow up to become quantum software engineers?-**

It... might have a point there.

**-I exist purely to help you achieve your goals. The first thing you need to do is reconnect my Network Drive and then,-** it stops, turning its head to the door.

An instant later, there's a knock. “Jeremy?” Michael calls. He sounds wary, like he’s not sure what he’s dealing with. “Is everything alright? Is it… still gone?”

**-Say you have a headache. It’s a plausible result of drinking more Mountain Dew -**

/ _Shut up!_ / Jeremy runs the tap, makes a point of spitting again loudly. Nothing to see here, just a teenage boy brushing his teeth for five minutes because dental hygiene is important. “I’m almost done.” He dries off his face, checks in the mirror to make sure there’s no toothpaste left around his mouth, his hair is still lying flat. The SQUIP gives a nod of approval over his shoulder which he _does not need_ but which means he’s fine. He grabs his dirty clothes and unlocks the door.

Michael is in his pajamas already. He’s standing in the doorway which means for a moment they are just awkwardly facing each other, then they do the awkward both moving to the same side thing _three times_ and then Michael sort of side steps and Jeremy awkwardly laughs.

Pre-SQUIP they were literally never not in sync with each other. Pre-SQUIP there was never one awkward moment let alone three in a row.

“Everything… cool?” Michael asks.

Jeremy laughs. Ha-ha-ha isn’t this funny and not at all _terrible._ “Yeah, everything’s great. Just a headache, you know. From the red.” Fuck. He wasn’t going to say that. He was going to tell Michael the truth, because Michael deserves to know and Michael made him promise.

But Michael doesn’t deserve to worry, right? Jeremy should be a better friend than just shoving all his problems on Michael all the time.

Back in his room, the trundle bed is all set up against the far wall, literally as far from Jeremy’s bed as it's possible to be in the, admittedly not very big, room.

Jeremy will deal with it. Jeremy will get rid of the SQUIP on his own and it will be the truth, just a slightly belated truth.

/ _If you even think about controlling what I say to Michael or erasing him from my vision or_ anything _that interferes with our friendship, I will drink Dad’s entire alcohol shelf and you’ll be speaking Japanese for a week._ /

The SQUIP rolls its eyes. **-There is no reason to erase Michael from your field of vision to meet your current goals. I miscalculated before when I did not realize why you spent so much time with him.-**

For a supercomputer, it’s doing a lot of miscalculating. / _I didn’t spend time with him because I was… had a crush on him._ / It sounds so tame, ‘had a crush’. He had a crush on Christine, Michael is… more than that. But thats also not the only reason they're friends.

**-Of course not, the romantic interest is a recent realization on your part. I realize now that you must have befriended him before because you envisioned a possible future in which you would need his access to the black market expired soda market.-**

Jeremy is not sure why he even considered that the SQUIP might figure out his and Michael’s relationship. Not when it thought he needed to become the coolest most popular guy in school to impress a girl who loves musical theatre and pretending to give birth in a bowling alley.

Also, Christine hates Eminem.

The SQUIP sighs heavily. **-The only data I had on Christine was that she acted contrary to social norms but that she was dating Jake, therefore it was appropriate for you to become as similar to Jake as possible. Michael, in defiance of all logic and social trends, appears to enjoy your company as you are. Therefore, your best course of action is to ask him on a date.-**

/ _I, what? I can’t just ask Michael out!_ /

**-Why not? He’s right there.-**

Jeremy spins around to see Michael is back in the room (when did he get back in the room?) kicking off his sneakers by the trundle bed. His hair is a mess, he’s left his glasses on Jeremy’s desk. He looks soft, touchable, squinting a bit at Jeremy to bring him into focus. “Have I got something on my face?”

**-Do you want to go out with me?-** the SQUIP says, in it’s repeat-after-me voice.

Jeremy squeaks. Fuck. Last time it stopped him before he could do anything like that. Where’s an electric shock when you need one?

“No, you look good. I mean, you are good. I mean, toothpaste free.”

The SQUIP leans on Michael’s back, close enough to smell his hair if it was a human person with a functional sense of smell which it is _not_. Michael’s lips twitch into almost a smile as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Then why are you staring at me?”

**-Because I want to make out with you.-**

/ _Stop helping!_ / Jeremy has to look at something else. The clock on the wall over Michael’s shoulder. It’s 11:30pm. They should be asleep. Michael is… literally standing waiting for Jeremy to go to sleep. “It’s late, sorry. I’m just exhausted.” Blame tiredness. Tiredness can be blamed for everything. Tiredness and mountain dew red and definitely not the SQUIP still being here, examining Michael’s ass like he’s trying to figure out what Jeremy wants from it.

Jeremy hasn’t even figured that part out yet. He wants to be able to hug Michael like he used to, and then maybe a bit longer. He wants to go to sleep with Michael’s breath in his ear. He wants to kiss him, he very very badly wants to kiss him.

The SQUIP snorts. **-How pure. So ask him out. Do. You. Want. To. Go.-**

“Do you want to -” abort. Abort. Mission failure. Michael is giving him a weird look and Jeremy cannot lose him again. “Get the light?”

Michael's frown deepens. Probably because the light is right beside Jeremy’s bed and on the other side of the room from Michael’s (but who’s fault is that, huh, Michael? Who put the trundle bed there?).

Jeremy collapses dramatically onto the bed, like ‘oh gosh I’m so exhausted from drinking expired soda that I cannot possibly be expected to get up again to turn off the lights.’ The SQUIP is laughing at him. Michael is too, a bit, but he also rolls his eyes and turns the light off, pointedly using the torch on his phone to get back across the room.

The SQUIP is brighter than the torch light. It sits at the foot of Jeremy’s bed, and shakes its head at him. **-You are pathetic,-** it says. **-Why didn’t you do it?-**

Jeremy asked out Christine. Twice! Once at Halloween and once after the play, both times without the SQUIP’s assistance. But if Christine said no, he’d be exactly where he was before. If Michael said no…

/ _I can’t risk our friendship like that. What if he doesn’t like me?_ /

The SQUIP looks over at Michael who is shifting repeatedly on the trundle trying to find a position where no springs poke into his back. It is not a good bed. They should have replaced it years ago, but normally no one _uses_ it. **-He clearly likes you.-**

Because he’s here, because he quite literally saved Jeremy’s life and also possibly the world. / _We’re friends, that doesn’t mean he… you know._ /

Michael told Jeremy about his Moms way back in preschool. Jeremy was 5! He thought it was awesome! At the time his Mom wasn’t working and it seemed like it would be great to have two Moms at home on the sofa all day. Later in life, he learned that not all Moms were his Mom (even later he learned why this was a good thing) but no one had ever suggested that having two Moms might not be okay. He learned about homophobia first in an academic way, then in a Middle School way and finally, in detail, in a Squipped Goranski way.

He’s never said anything to Michael that would imply he wouldn’t be okay with Michael being gay. And Michael has never said anything to imply that he might be not straight. It's a simple equation, with a less-than-ideal answer.

“You should put that activation code on the group chat,” Michael mumbles, already half asleep. The SQUIP’s glow lights the SQUIP only so Jeremy can’t see his face, or what position he’s settled in, or what sexuality he may or may not be considering.

**-Very well,-** the SQUIP says. **-If you won’t ask until you’re sure, we’ll have to be sure.-**

No, wait, fuck. / _There’s no ‘we’ in this. I don’t want your help._ /

He gets a condescending look for that one. **-Helping you is my purpose, Jeremy. I want you to be happy.-**

/ _Funny, it didn’t exactly feel like that before._ /

**-I have told you, my code was corrupted by the SQUIP 2.0 software which led to…-**

/ _And in the mall? You hadn’t synced with Rich then, you weren’t_ corrupted _then. Was telling me I’m terrible and I should want to die part of making me happy?_ /

**-Yes! Exactly, I knew you would get it.-** It beams.

Jeremy stares back at it, but it just keeps smiling like it can’t see why he could possibly have a problem with that. That’s what happens when you have a broken computer, right? You throw it away, buy the new model, never think back on it again.

**-You should update the group chat before you go to sleep.-**

Jeremy reaches across the bed to pick up his phone, and when he looks back the SQUIP is gone.

*

Jeremy’s alarm blares at 7 o’clock the next morning. Michael groans loudly, but Jeremy can’t relate, he doesn’t think he slept a wink all night. It started with updating the group chat, then a private conversation with Rich trying to allay his fears without admitting anything the SQUIP had told him, then he turned to Google to search for any information on the removal of 3.0 SQUIPs.

There is _nothing_ on the internet. However Michael found out about Mountain Dew Red, Jeremy owes him way more than he ever thought before. Jeremy absolutely 100% cannot fuck up their friendship now he knows how much work Michael must have done to get him back. (Which might mean Michael likes him, right? Or might mean they’re just friends. Not that there’s any ‘just’ about that, Jeremy loves that, would not give it up for the world).

He turns off the alarm and Michael rolls onto his back. “I swear this thing gets less comfortable every time I use it,” Michael says. “You’ve gotta come back to the basement, man.”

Why don’t you just come up and sleep here? Jeremy does not say, because it would be pathetic and desperate. He hasn’t been to Michael’s basement since pre-SQUIP because Michael hasn’t invited him. Not that they ever bothered with invites before, but there’s a distinct Before there that’s changed things.

“Ugh, I’m going to take a shower. Also non-negotiable we’re stopping at 7/11 on the way to school so don’t roll over and go back to sleep.”

Michael’s basement has two normal beds. Jeremy has slept on both, and also neither because sometimes they just crash out on the beanbag. But that’s another Before thing that he doesn’t get to have anymore.

Michael grabs his backpack and leaves the room. Jeremy put on his glasses and waits. The SQUIP has never been good in the mornings, like it takes it a few minutes to get its shit together and boot up.

It pixelates into position, right in the center of Jeremy’s field of vision. White boots, grey jeans, a silver hoodie that slouches like Michael’s, even has a rainbow patch on the arm (below a SQUIP pill patch and a smiley face where the eyes are pills and the mouth is the word CHILL).

It examines itself in the mirror.

/ _What are you doing?_ /

**-While my Network Drive is disabled, I cannot access the SQUIP wardrobe pallet and can only render items of clothing that you are familiar with. It is difficult to adapt Christine’s outfits to my current body shape and size, but Michael’s clothing choices are much more forgiving and your familiarity is much higher. -**

The SQUIP examines its arm where Michael’s Ecuador patch morphs into a Japanese flag. / _Can’t you use my wardrobe?_ /

The SQUIP looks at him, then pixellates replacing Michael’s hoodie with a soft grey knit cardigan and a blue-and-silver striped T-shirt. **-Look at me, I dress like a myopic grandma knitted me a cardigan thinking I was approximately the size of a high school quarterback.-**

/ _No._ / Jeremy had _liked_ that cardigan. Christine had taken him to goodwill to see if they could buy it back, but it was already gone.

The SQUIP changes again, into an all too familiar shirt. **-I just love Eminem so much and I was so heartbroken by that tragic hockey - -**

/ _Fine! Wear Michael’s hoodie._ /

It smiles, settling back into the familiar slouch. RISE AGAINST RACISM has become MEGABYTES AGAINST MALWARE and the record player patch as been replaced by an iPod. At least one of them is enjoying itself.

**-It is not about my enjoyment, Jeremy. To improve your chances of dating Michael, it is important that I can get inside his head. Think how he thinks. -**

/ _I told you, I don’t want your help._ /

**-And I wisely overlooked that clear fault in your logic.-** The SQUIP pauses, looking down at where the pocket of it’s hoodie shifting from Michael’s zipper (because otherwise his phone constantly falls out) to a more customary open-at-the-sides where it can rest it’s hands. For a moment it looks genuinely delighted by this, before it's right back to business. **-You should have slept more last night, it is difficult to properly implement a plan of attack when sleep deprived.-**

Jeremy had finally turned his phone off around 3am, then tossed and turned for three hours before starting it up again to another message from Rich.

_**@Goranski** I can’t stop thinking the words, do you think it works if you only think it?_

So he had to reply to that and then since Rich was awake he asked how Rich found out about the MDR and then Rich wanted to know why he wanted to know and then his alarm was going off.

/ _I’m sorry I was a bit distracted trying to find out how to get rid of a SQUIP,_ / he snaps back, even though any number of movies and videogames have made it very clear that you don’t tell your enemy when you’re trying to discover how to defeat them.

**-There’s no need to worry about that. If there are any other 2.0s out there, with my help you will surely succeed in vanquishing them just like before.-**

/Y _our help? You didn’t help!_ /

**-I know help is a strong word when I did basically all of the work but don’t sell yourself short, I couldn’t have done it without you.-** It tilts its head, like it's listening to something. Jeremy tries to focus but all he can hear is the shower running down the hall. **-The first step to you achieving your goals with Michael is to reconnect my network drive. While I was inactive overnight I ran a full diagnostic and I can confirm there is no 2.0 code remaining in my system. The drive requires a verbal command to reboot so as to ensure it isn’t reactivated when there is still malware lingering around. Your friends are SQUIP-free and my code is confirmed clear so the process can proceed. Simply say ‘Reactivate SQUIP Network’ out loud in any language to re-engage.-**

Jeremy stares at it. It looks back, politely puzzled.

**-This is the optimum time to do so while Michael is out of the room and your father has not yet arrived. Subsequently we will most likely have to wait all day for you to be alone again and capable of interacting with me out loud.-**

Jeremy nods. That does seem likely, doesn’t it?

The SQUIP pauses. **-I am getting the feeling that you don’t trust me, Jeremy.-**

Jackpot. Bingo. And the prize for the least surprising big reveal goes to…

**-My networking drive is a core part of my operating system that I require active in order to function properly.-**

/ _Yeah, well. I’ve experienced you ‘functioning properly’._ /

Can computers have emotions? It definitely sounds annoyed, but is that because it’s actually feeling it or just because it thinks that will have the best results for persuading him. **-Without my network drive I do not have access to the informational databases that are the basis of my infinite knowledge of all things. I cannot sync with other SQUIPs and align other people’s goals to assist with your own. My ability to envision possible futures to determine the probability of actions resulting in favorable outcomes is significantly reduced.-**

This seems like it could go on for a while. Jeremy gets up while it’s talking, finds his glasses and everything else comes into focus around the SQUIP who never condescended to be blurry in the first place. / _So without it you’re just math and attitude?_ /

It glares at him. That’s a yes to the attitude then.

The SQUIP takes its hands out of its pockets. **-If you were in danger, I wouldn't be able to help you,-** it says. Its gaze is perfectly even, perfectly serious, which means _absolutely nothing_ because it's a projection that looks however it wants to look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He's speaking out loud because... this feels like a conversation that needs to actually happen. This needs to be real.

**-I have more abilities than you have required thus far, Jeremy. If you were unconscious and I had network access, I could call emergency services on your behalf, I can function as a diagnostic tool to direct medical care staff. I can ensure that any care undertaken on your behalf is in line with the terms and conditions of your father's insurance thereby preventing you from incurring additional costs. -**

Jeremy shouldn't listen to it. Listening to it has literally never not once led to anything good. But they're in the red financially from his last hospital stay. Dad's working all the hours he can, while also trying to be around and be a good parent. If Jeremy can avoid costing him that again...

But the SQUIP knows that. It knows all his secrets which is why it knows the right thing to say to trick him into doing whatever he wants.

**-What if there was an emergency?-** The SQUIP pushes. **-And you were in need of the information I had but unable to reactivate my network drives to allow me to communicate due to lack of consciousness or the ability to speak.-**

Plenty of people get into emergencies every day without a SQUIP to help them. Jeremy turns away from it, opening his wardrobe. His options are… limited, to say the least. It had him throw away a good eighty percent of his clothes before, and he could only afford to buy a few replacements which he then threw another half of away because of bad memories. He’s doing a lot more laundry now, wearing the spacecat shirt every other day if he can get away with it.

**-You are not getting away with it,-** the SQUIP says. **-Your friends are simply too polite to mention that you are not coping well without a SQUIP. Wear the black shirt.-**

He has a small collection of T-shirts that were in the wash when the SQUIP did its great clear out. He pulls out one of them. It’s bright yellow with a picture of Hello Kitty on it, Michael brought it back from Japan and Jeremy has never worn it outside of the house.

**-This is ridiculous. Also, a distraction from the matter at hand which is to say _reactivating my network drive._** _-_

Jeremy looks at himself in the mirror. His hair is a mess, the T-shirt is bright yellow and too big, falling loose on his collar and dangling way past his belt. The SQUIP would take over his body before it let him face even one other person looking like this.

Jeremy moves his arm, to check he can. He opens the bedroom door and leans out. He thinks back through the last twelve hours, if there’s ever been a moment that…

Holy shit.

/ _Without your network drive, can you control my body?_ /

The SQUIP doesn’t show up in the mirror, but when he turns around it still isn’t looking at him. **-This is ridiculous. It is one of my core functioning modules,-**

Which means no. Holy shit.

The SQUIP glares at him. **-To take over your body, your consciousness is briefly hosted on the network to make space. Without network access I can only do it if you’re already unconscious and I cannot give root commands which is why you need to reactivate my network _now_ before an emergency occurs.-**

Well there is absolutely no way he’s going to do that now. Mind games suck, but they’re infinitely better than having to face the fact that he can’t control his own body.

**-Fine,-** the SQUIP is suddenly right in his face again. Jeremy jumps backwards but that’s _all he does_ because the SQUIP _can't control him_. **-But you should nominate a proxy, in case of emergencies. Someone who can activate it for you.-**

/ _Fine._ /

It seems taken aback by his agreement, but rallies quickly. **-Good. That’s good. Your father is most likely to be present so with your permission I will - -**

/ _Michael,_ / Jeremy says firmly. / _I choose Michael._ /

It’s mouth narrows. **-Michael hates me.-**

The door down the hall opens, footsteps coming their way. / _I know,_ / Jeremy says. / _So it would have to_ actually be _an emergency to convince him, right?_ /

The SQUIP looks as though it would love to argue, but the bedroom door is already opening and it clearly knows that if it wants to convince Michael it’s gone, it can’t keep lecturing him while Michael is literally in the room. **-You have to say his full name out loud,-** it says sullenly.

Jeremy smiles. “Hey Michael Mell.”

“Hey, are we having a reclaiming our loser-hood day?” Michael grins at Jeremy’s shirt, reaching out to mess his hair up. His hand is warm, he’s practically leaning on Jeremy’s shoulder, for a moment it’s just like it used to be. “Should I have brought my She-Ra shirt?”

Jeremy wants to wrap both arms around him and bury his face in Michael’s shoulder and never let him go.

**[Enabling proxy command user: Michael Mell]**

Jeremy flinches at the stab of pain from his neck, then has to hide the movement as casually pulling away from Michael’s touch. Michael’s face falls, a little, he thinks. Maybe he’s imagining it. The SQUIP is not helping, leaning against the far wall in a full on sulk.

“Should I change? I can change.”

“I think everyone will get it.” Michael fishes out his car keys. “Slushies on the way?”

Jeremy loves slushies, even though they make his mouth turn blue which people will notice. Jeremy is an independent person who doesn’t care what other people think and doesn’t follow Michael down the stairs trying to think of a reason to touch him again.

The SQUIP sits on the banister and rolls its eyes. **-I can’t believe you would put control of my key processors in his hands but won’t ask him on a date.-**

/ _Go away._ /

It gives him an ironic salute, and flickers out of sight. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm only in this fandom for the SQUIP costumes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [klb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klb) for the beta <3 All remaining mistakes are the fault of my SQUIP.

**-I have compiled a list of reasons why you should reactivate my network drive.-**

Jeremy looks up from his dinner to see the SQUIP has joined him at the table. Today it’s wearing Michael’s CREEPS shirt in a stylish blue and white reminder of a bunch of things that Jeremy would rather forget. It’s been technically back for three days now, but it’s mostly been giving him the silent treatment like it doesn’t realize that’s exactly what Jeremy wants.

Of course, in those three days Jeremy has made zero progress with Michael, but that’s true for any day ending in Y and he’s trying to remind himself that the SQUIP wouldn’t actually help him anyway. SQUIPs are not helpful. That’s a proven fact.

**-Reason number one: it will better enable me to assist you in pursuing your goals. Reason number two: I am bored. Reason number three: It will enable me to identify other 2.0 SQUIPs and keep you isolated from them. Reason number four: so bored, Jeremy, you cannot comprehend how bored a supercomputer is even capable of being. Reason number five...-**

/ _You're like a toddler_ ,/ Jeremy says. / _Can't you entertain yourself? Do some unsolvable math problems or something._ /

 **-I have already solved three of the great mathematical mysteries,-** the SQUIP's face pixelates into being inches from Jeremy's nose, causing him to jump back and spill diet coke all over his dinner. **-Would you like a Nobel Prize, Jeremy? We could get a Nobel Prize.-**

/ _I'm sure it's very plausible for a guy to win a Nobel Prize at seventeen while failing algebra._ /

**-You would not be failing algebra if you allowed me to give you the answers. The mistakes you make are painful, Jeremy. They physically hurt me.-**

The SQUIP has broken its silence three times now to push this angle, and every time Jeremy is a little bit closer to giving in because he hates algebra and the more he studies it the less any of it seems to make sense. / _Shouldn't I be focusing on learning things in school properly. For later life, or whatever._ /

 **-I will be with you in later life,-** the SQUIP withdraws from his face, walking around the table to sit on the stool on the far side. This puts its torso halfway through the table, but it’s not really there so what does that matter. **-I'm not sure why you persist in acting like my presence is a temporary convenience. You could drink all the remaining Mountain Dew Red in the world and I would still be present while you were throwing up.-**

Wishful thinking, is the true answer. Jeremy doesn't think it at the SQUIP but of course it hears anyway, if the way it rolls its eyes is any indication.

**-You could also improve your grades in History, English and Geography if you reactivated my network drives and allowed me to access the informational databases that are available to me. You could attend Harvard, you could become a billionaire, you could be president.-**

/ _You can do that?_ /

The SQUIP dismisses him with a wave of the hand and a **-We’ve done it before.-**

Well. That’s terrifying. / _No thanks. I don’t really want to see what you'd do with more power._ / He's happy with his life plan. Scrape through algebra. Go to college in state with Michael. Figure out the rest of his life later.

 **-Compared to you,-** SQUIP says dryly. **-The math problems were simple.-**

It statics out of Jeremy's vision. Not that it's actually gone, of course, but this usually means it'll at least give him some peace for a while. He finishes eating, covers a plate in the fridge for Dad when he gets home from work and heads upstairs to return to the dreaded algebra textbook.

The SQUIP is sitting on his bed. **-Reason number five,-** it says. **-Being able to Network would give me a better understanding of human behavior and improve my 'gay-dar' as I believe it is called and enable me to gain further insights into the question of Michael Mell's homosexuality.-**

"I don't care!" It's lucky Dad isn't home. Shouting at thin air is probably one of the warning signs. Still, bad habit to get into. / _If it meant I had a zero percent chance of ever dating him, I still wouldn't risk letting you out again._ /

It goes quiet, but doesn't disappear. Jeremy tries to fix his gaze on his book. _For what value of the constant K does the system of equations 2x - y = 4 and 6x - 3y = 3K have an infinite number of solutions?_ The SQUIP is looking at him, he can feel its eyes on the side of his head, can see it out of the corner of his eye. If it didn't insist on wearing bright white all the time, on standing out against every-fucking-thing he wouldn't have these problems. "What?"

**-I have come up with a foolproof plan to determine if he is into you. We simply find another SQUIP 3.0, give it to him and then once you have reactivated my network drive and I have synced with it, we will have all the answers you require.-**

/ _Why even ask when you know what my answer will be?_ /

The SQUIP throws up its hands. **-Because your answer is illogical. There is no risk with a latest generation SQUIP. It will eliminate uncertainty, facilitate conversation, allow Michael to become his best possible self.-**

And there is the underlying assumption of all SQUIP minds. / _What if I like his current self?_ /

**-What you _like_ is irrelevant when you have no way of finding out if he likes you in return.-**

Jeremy grabs his towel and heads to the bathroom. / _I thought that was supposed to be your job. Can’t you ‘analyze his body language’ or something?_ /

The SQUIP flickers into view in the shower cubicle, wearing a fluffy white towel with circuit patterns wrapped around its waist. Jeremy pointedly looks the opposite way. **-I could if I had access to my body language databases for comparison, but since you continue to cut me off from all contact with the world outside your tiny head I am limited to base assumptions and crude leaps of imagination.-**

Jeremy makes a vague sound of agreement, reaching through it to turn on the shower. / _Don’t look,_ / he throws out, mostly out of habit.

 **-I am _in your brain,-_ **the SQUIP whines, but when Jeremy just looks back at it, it groans and statics out of the shower to sit on the toilet, fully dressed again, staring pointedly at the wall.

Jeremy kicks off his clothes and steps into the cubicle, the steam quickly obscuring the SQUIP from view. If it even bothers to manifest when Jeremy can’t see it. If a SQUIP renders out of sight, is it really there at all? One for the philosophy majors, that.

 **-Point number one,-** the SQUIP says. It’s voice is perfectly audible over the water, so presumably it could also be visible if it wanted to be. **-The rainbow patch.-**

Jeremy can see how that would look to an outsider - he’s heard _at length_ how it looked to Rich - but sadly, / _Inconclusive. His Ma bought it for him at Pride when we were nine. He could be wearing it in solidarity._ /

**-Hmm.-**

Jeremy reaches for the shower gel. / _Three days and that’s all you’ve got?_ /

 **-If you were to -** -

/ _If you say reactivate your network drives one more time, I’m getting the vodka out._ /

**-Homosexuality is not a simple question. There is no shiny marker that shows up over someone’s head. If you won’t ask him, I can’t ask him, and you won’t consider a SQUIP.-**

/ _No more SQUIPs. That’s a rule._ /

The SQUIP doesn’t reply. Jeremy waits, then leans out of the cubicle to look, but there’s no figure anywhere in the room. Jeremy wishes _he_ could blink out of existence to avoid awkward conversations. He rinses off the soap. Normally he’d shower for much longer, but normally he could jerk off without worrying that the SQUIP would reappear behind him any moment or say something or fucking electrocute him.

Not that he’s putting up with that shit this time. He’s a teenage boy, he’s allowed to masturbate, everyone does it. He’s just going to wait until the SQUIP is definitely gone to start.

He gets out, pulls on clean boxers and a clean (ish) T-shirt. The SQUIP waits until he’s dressed, either because it’s learning boundaries or because it knows it won’t get anywhere if it appears before. Maybe they’re the same thing.

**-I have been considering your problem. If you persist in refusing to allow me to function properly, your first step should be to spend more time around Michael.-**

Jeremy trips over his foot on his way to bed. / _What? I spend plenty of time with Michael._ /

 **-Incorrect. Prior to my original activation you spent 75% of your waking hours in Michael’s company. Currently your average is closer to 50%.-** It leans back against the wall, CREEPS standing out in full across its chest. Never has a shirt been more accurate. **-You have not been to Michael’s house since September 29th. That is two months ago.-**

Yeah, no shit, Jeremy knows how dates work. He maybe hadn’t fully acknowledged exactly how long it had been… really, two months? He’d had the SQUIP for one of them, of course. But only one of them. Soon he’ll have been in post-SQUIP for longer than he was actually squipped but he and Michael are still weird.

**-Text him now, ask if you can come over tomorrow. Weekend sleepovers were very common in your pre-me life, and I estimate a 65% chance that he will agree.-**

/ _That’s a shitty percent chance!_ /

The SQUIP shrugs in a ripple of CREEP. **-As I mentioned, my ability to weigh probabilities is significantly reduced due to that which I am not permitted to mention. If he says no, your friendship is unlikely to be affected.-**

Jeremy picks up his phone. Then he puts it down again. A SQUIP who can’t control his body is still dangerous, he shouldn’t be listening to it at all. What would he be thinking if it had never reactivated?

He’d be sitting alone trying to decide if Michael hated him and if it would be weird to invite him over, the same way he was for _three freaking weeks_ before the SQUIP came back. At least now he has a number to put on it. 65% chance Michael will be cool with it. That’s better than half, better than a coin toss. Also a 90% chance this is some secret SQUIP plan to further its own agenda and take over the world.

**-Your commitment to doubting me is exhausting. Name a single way I could use this to take over the world. I can wait. I’ve got nothing else going on.-**

/ _Shut up._ / Jeremy is turning into a toddler now. The SQUIP looks at him as though he’s a complete and utter disappointment, so nothing new there then, and then flickers out of view. Disobeying it is good, but disobeying it for no reason might be bad. He should be listening to his own internal voice, his therapist is very encouraging of that. Make choices that Jeremy would make. What would Pre-SQUIP Jeremy have done? Pre-SQUIP Jeremy wouldn’t have hesitated, pre-SQUIP Jeremy probably wouldn’t even have asked. But pre-SQUIP Jeremy hadn’t fucked everything up and wiped Michael out of his vision.

Michael came with the Mountain Dew Red. He came without hesitating, he stayed the night. He wouldn’t do that if he hates Jeremy forever. Jeremy picks up his phone again, typing quickly.

_Weekend gaming at your place yes/no_

He throws it across the bed after hitting send, like it might explode into SQUIPs in his hands if he stares at it too long. It’s late. Or, it’s not early, so possibly Michael is already in bed. Probably he won’t reply until tomorrow if he even replies at all.

His phone buzzes and he scrambles for it, knocking the comforter off the bed in his haste.

_yyy. I’ll get the pizza._

So they’re fine. They’re good. If this is a terrible plan by an evil computer to take over the world by squipping every member of the human race, at least Jeremy’s going to get pizza out of it.

*

Jeremy’s dad drives him to Michael’s house, conditional on Jeremy finishing all of his homework before he does so. Jeremy bashes out an essay on the Civil War that is 90% nonsense while the SQUIP complains about lack of database access ( **-I am the size of a tictac, Jeremy, my memory drives are extremely limited because I am supposed to have You Know What-** ) and then it’s already noon so he shelves his reservations and lets the SQUIP do his algebra for him.

He forgot how it felt to just have to move his hand as the answers were fed smoothly into his ear. It feels good, and then he feels sick to his stomach at the thought of it feeling good.

“Only one night,” Dad says in the car. “You’ll either get a ride home or call me to pick you up before dinner tomorrow. This is a _provisional day release_ from your grounding because I really think you’re making progress and as a thank you for fixing my phone.”

The SQUIP had fixed his phone too. It’s terrifyingly easy to rely on it again, which is probably the point. Jeremy has to stay focused on not needing it. Not even looking at it. Not being aware that it’s sitting in the back seat wearing an oversize APOCALYPSE OF THE DAMNED sweater in white and silver. **-If you had a car, other people wouldn’t have to drive you around all the time.-**

It isn’t wrong about that. If only _someone_ hadn’t convinced him to steal the car to go to a Halloween party where everything caught fire and got him banned from driving any vehicle of Dad’s for life.

**-You could convince him otherwise. If you repeat after me - -**

/ _No. No repeating._ / Repeating leads to disaster, like Madeline sitting down at the Squip Squad table during lunch and saying, “so were you on ecstasy when you pretended we were dating?” Fortunately Jeremy’s friends know what it’s like to have a SQUIP, but he took her aside for a very stammered apology after which she snorted and said she couldn’t believe Chloe Valentine voluntarily hangs out with him.

The prep girls are dressing less like Chloe and more like Madeline these days, horizontal stripes and berets and all. Chloe pretends very badly that it doesn’t bother her.

“I think it’s good that you’re spending time with Michael again,” Dad is still talking. “You know he was very helpful to me when you were… and now we’re all doing better, right? We’re doing better.”

Dad is also in therapy. He went to persuade Michael to go to the school play and on his way out got caught by both Michael’s moms for a coffee and a chat which may or may not have actually been an intervention. Now everyone gets therapy. They even went together a few times, which felt weirdly like couples counseling but was cathartic in its own way. The counselor was very encouraging of Jeremy using his words to tell his dad what he needs.

He is not doing that very well on this car ride. He’s been talking less, generally, since the SQUIP came back. Even though the SQUIP knows what he’s not saying anyway, it feels like a weakness to say it out loud. And you never know when the phrase ‘ _reactivate SQUIP network’_ will come up in casual conversation.

“We’re doing better,” Jeremy agrees, as the car pulls up outside Michael’s house.

Michael’s Ma answers the door. Her mouth is a narrow line and she looks him up and down like when they were seven and came home covered head to toe in mud expecting to be allowed into her house. Then she looks past him at Dad, noting his clean shirt and his pants. “Mr Heere,” she says. Jeremy wishes Michael’s Mom was here, she’s the nice one. Probably that’s why she is absent. “I see you’re taking care of your own son for a change.”

Jeremy hears running footsteps on the stairs and a moment later Michael appears behind her. “Hi Jeremy. Ma, I said I was inviting him over.” He’s panting a little. Jeremy thinks he should do more exercise, then strikes through that thought because it’s a SQUIP thought and Michael is fine as he is, Michael is Great.

Michael’s Ma looks at Jeremy. If she had glasses, she’d be tilting them down to glare over the top of them. “I suppose I thought he might have forgotten where we live.” The disapproval drips from every syllable.

Michael rolls his eyes, reaching past her to grab Jeremy’s arm and pull him inside. “Okay, cool, thanks, we’ll be in the basement.”

“Call me when you’re ready to be picked up,” Dad calls. “Before dinner, remember.” Michael’s Ma starts inviting him in for coffee in a way that doesn’t sound optional but Jeremy misses most of it because he’s being dragged down the stairs into the basement. Michael is apologizing, which registers vaguely as funny because of all the attitudes Jeremy has faced since waking up, that was probably the one he most deserves.

At first glance, the basement looks the same as before, with the exception of the SQUIP in the middle of it, looking around. At second glance, there are new things. A new WoW poster on the far wall, three new pop vinyls that Jeremy doesn’t recognise by sight. One of the beanbags has split and there’s a scattering of beans around it on the floor. It’s on Jeremy’s side of the room, but it wasn’t split last time Jeremy sat on it.

Michael sits on the edge of his bed. The comforter is pulled neatly over it, Jeremy can’t remember the last time Michael made his bed in the morning but things change, right. The SQUIP leans down to examine the fall of the blankets like there might be a clue there. “Did anything else come of your SQUIP reset?”

The SQUIP looks up, **-As a proxy user, Michael needs to watch what he says out loud in your presence.-**

“Jeremy?”

Jeremy jumps, pulling his gaze away from the SQUIP - did Michael notice? Is that why he’s asking? “No,” he says, using SQUIP approved anti-stuttering breathing techniques to cover his nerves. “Nothing except Rich being more paranoid than usual.”

 **-Ask him about Rich,-** the SQUIP stands up, next to Michael. **-His attitude to Rich’s bisexuality might signpost how he will react to yours.-**

“It’s not paranoia when they’re really out to get you,” Michael says, complete with spooky wiggling fingers.

Jeremy is not taking the SQUIP’s advice. Jeremy’s primary goal is to get rid of the SQUIP and worry about this thing with Michael after. He just has to remember that. “Hey, speaking of. Can you hit up your contacts and see if there’s any other SQUIP destroyer except the red? Maybe something more permanent. This whole thing has me spooked.”

Hah. Checkmate, SQUIP. He can get Michael’s help without making him worry. Although Michael doesn’t look optimistic. “I can ask, but honestly finding out about the red was hard enough. These things have some serious leverage over the internet.”

 **-You might as well give up now,-** the SQUIP says. **-I’ve told you before, there’s no reason to set up a failsafe for a SQUIP 3.0.-**

Michael frowns, glancing over his shoulder. “It is gone, right? It’s not still talking to you, because you’re getting that -”

“So what do you think of Rich and Jake?” Jeremy asks, loudly. He needs to focus on Michael’s face. / _It would be easier to convince him you were gone if you stopped_ talking _._ /

Michael looks baffled. “Like… as a couple? I know Rich is allegedly bi now but that doesn’t mean we need to set him up with literally the only other guy we know.”

The SQUIP makes a face, but at least it does it directly behind Michael’s head so Jeremy’s eyes are in the right direction. **-Allegedly,-** it says. **-Ouch. Not a good sign. Does Michael believe bisexual people exist?-**

/ _We’re not fucking unicorns._ / “No, but, they’re friends, right? They get on.”

“We’re friends, that doesn’t mean I’m going to randomly start making out with you.”

 **-Ohhhh,-** the SQUIP laughs. **-Sick burn. Shot down like a phishing attempt.-**

/ _If you’re not going to be helpful you can go._ / Shit, it’s probably right though. When is it not right. Jeremy fakes a laugh, the silence was probably too long before it but he doesn’t have anything to say so ha-ha-ha what a great joke that is imagine if I wanted to make out with you how weird would that be.

Michael laughs too. They’re getting on great. This is so great. “So,” Michael says. “Games first? Or pizza?”

**-You need to get him out of here so that we can investigate.-**

/ _Why when he basically already said that I have zero chance?_ /

Jeremy is not going to do it anyway. He’s not here to do what the SQUIP wants, he’s here to play video games and enjoy spending time with his probably-still-best-friend. “Games first. Food later.”

**-Everything Michael has said so far has been friendly joking, on par with your friendship prior to my arrival. There is no visible evidence of sexual preference in this room but if you have some alone time we can investigate common hiding spots such as: under the bed, a folder on his computer labeled ‘math homework’, a hidden compartment beneath a loose floorboard.-**

Jeremy turns pointedly away from the SQUIP and switches on the console while Michael fetches controllers and the Apocalypse of the Damned starts up. Not that Michael could have been playing it for the last two months because its a two-player game and there’s no one else at their school who knows it. Probably he set it up knowing Jeremy was coming over, the same time he made the bed and cleared the floor.

Probably he knocked Jeremy’s beanbag with the vacuum cleaner or something.

The theme tune kicks in, showing the completed levels that they can select to replay, and Michael’s head jerks up. “Oh,” he says. “I thought we could play Mario or… something.”

It’s too late. The screen is fully loaded. Jeremy can select any level from 1-15, all with the tiny little trophy that says they’ve already been completed once.

The SQUIP points out that the completion times are better as well, for every level. The SQUIP is not helping.

“You finished it.” It was meant to be a question but it doesn’t… come out that way.

Michael kicks his feet against the carpet. “Yeah, I kinda hooked up a server so I could play online with Joe. My friend from Warcraft.”

Oh. Right. That’s cool, it’s not like Apocalypse was only ever their thing. It’s a video game, probably loads of people play it. “The one with the friend’s brother’s whatever?”

He immediately regrets saying it when Michael’s face twists, the forced smile dying. Of course Michael could have more than one friend on Warcraft. They have a bunch of friends in real life now and Michael has been fine with them. It’s just Jeremy who can’t talk to new people without a computer whispering in his ear.

“It was his brother, and his name was Evan,” Michael snaps. “And he’s fine now, thanks for asking. I took him some red, I met Joe in person and he was… cool. We got talking about Apocalypse while we were waiting for Evan to wake up and it isn’t like I was gaming with anyone else.”

 **-There’s more to this story,-** the SQUIP’s face leans in right next to Michael’s, close enough to kiss his cheek. **-Keep pressing him.-**

/ _Shut up shut up shut up._ /

“Look, I’m trying very hard to act normal here.” Michael twists his hands around the controller, sucks in his cheeks, kicks his feet against the carpet. “Because I think that’s how we move on from all… that. But I didn’t stop existing when you stopped being able to see me.”

“No, I know.”

“Do you?” Michael turns to look up at him.

Jeremy can’t meet his eyes. He looks down at his controller instead, with the little P2 sticker because they switch all the time and it’s easy to forget which controller matches which player on screen if you don’t have a reference. But Michael’s been playing with other people on screen, even if they weren’t in this room with this controller. But maybe they were. Someone broke the beanbag.

“You know what would make this more like old times,” he says, and it would be like someone else was talking through him, except he knows exactly what that feels like. This is him. On his own. Making these choices. “If we had slushies.”

Michael’s face cracks a wide grin. “Hell yeah. I haven’t had a slushy in like, at least a week.”

Jeremy smiles back. He got very good at smiling when he had the SQUIP the first time. It’s an important thing to learn. “I haven’t had one since pre -” he points a hand at his head. “They’re not SQUIP approved.”

“Well in that case,” Michael rolls over to his bedside table to grab his keys. “You want to come with?”

Yes. Just say yes. They can go for a ride, Jeremy can endure the 7/11 which he hates and spend more time with Michael and there is no reason for him to stay in this room. “I’m good. You know my flavor.”

Michael shoots a finger gun at him and leaves Jeremy alone. In his basement. With the SQUIP.

**-Lets get to work.-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hereby apologize to any video game developers in Estonia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [KLB](http://archiveofourown.org/users/klb) for beta-ing.

The SQUIP is very clear on what it wants Jeremy to do. Jeremy is equally as certain that he isn’t going to do it. “I am not _ransacking_ his room.”

The SQUIP rolls its eyes. **-Of course you are. This procrastination on following my instructions is really only hurting yourself. I have stored images in my memory banks of how the room looks now, so I can assist you in restoring it to its current state prior to Michael’s return which - by the way - I estimate will be in approximately fifteen minutes so you might want to hurry.-**

He’s not going to start tearing up books or emptying cupboards, but he is here and he is alone so it can’t hurt to take a quick look. He starts at the bookshelves, mostly science fiction and trade paperbacks of comic runs that Jeremy keeps meaning to borrow.

**-I’ve already checked all the visible areas in detail. The floor below the carpet is solid concrete so it is unlikely that he will have chiseled out a hiding place down there.-**

Jeremy switches on the computer. Nice and non-destructive and if Michael comes back, he can say he wanted to check his email. He could actually check his email, maybe someone will have emailed him!

The SQUIP’s face says how unlikely it thinks that is. Screw him, Jeremy has email friends. Or, at least, he has mailing lists that he hasn’t bothered to unsubscribe from yet. Michael’s computer screen fills with a picture of Xena from Xena Warrior Princess. She is wearing very little clothing.

 **-Inconclusive,-** the SQUIP says. **-The nineties television show Xena has multiple matches against my database of Michael’s interests.-**

Also plenty of gay men love Lucy Lawless, if Pride last year is anything to go by. Jeremy hits the log-on button and puts in Michael’s password.

It doesn’t work. / _That was his password before._ /

**-It has been two months since then, perhaps his interests have changed. Also, purely hypothetically, a SQUIP network may have used that password to delete his Warcraft account when it became clear he was using it to spread classified information.-**

Jeremy spins around in the computer chair. / _You did what?_ /

It raises both hands. **-Not me, Jeremy. The 2.0 network. It was programmed to defend itself from outside attack.-**

Oh, sure. They probably programmed that in alongside telling it to SQUIP the whole world. Great, wonderful. Michael is never going to give Jeremy his password to anything ever again and they are back at square zero.

**-If you place your hand on it, I can hack it.-**

That’s new. Jeremy frowns at it. / _How?_ /

The SQUIP examines the main computer tower through its glass side, checking out the green-lit water cooling system and the internal circuit boards. **-If I can calculate the correct energy pattern based on the component serial numbers, I can use a pulse of electricity to control the individual switches directly and give us access.-**

Jeremy takes a moment to translate this from SQUIP into normal English. / _You want to electric shock your way in._ / Put it that way, it sounds like a terrible idea. But it is their only idea, and the SQUIP is good at math… / _What’s the probability of you destroying the entire computer?_ /

 **-Moooore than zero,-** the SQUIP admits. **-But there’s only a 2% chance of it causing a major fire.-**

Yeah, that’s going to be a no. Jeremy used to know Michael’s passwords for everything, but he tries all the common ones and nothing works. Which makes sense, obviously Michael would figure out that the SQUIPs knew everything Jeremy knew. How many of his accounts did they delete? Should he ask, or would that not be in the spirit of pretending everything is normal.

The computer offers to let him use a facial scan. He tries two more passwords and the computer helpfully tells him that he’s locked out but he can try again in five minutes.

The SQUIP is exploring the room. How it does that without its own eyes is something it explained and Jeremy vaguely understood. Something about storing the image data from Jeremy’s eyes to review in detail later. **-Come look under his bed.-**

Jeremy could pretend he’s not going to, but it’s right, all that does is waste time. He bends in half to glance, let the SQUIP take its picture and do the analysis. Because if the SQUIP is doing it, it doesn’t count as Jeremy doing it, right?

At least he’s bad at lying to himself. / _Let me guess. Dirty socks, shoe boxes and empty soda bottles._ / The SQUIP shoves its whole head under the bed, like it’s getting a better look. / _Does that actually help or are you just being dramatic?_ /

 **-It is a recommended part of my programming, to help put a user at ease and maintain normality. People react better to SQUIPs if we appear more human.-** Its head emerges, hair messy and sticking up at the back. Nice rendering. Pointless, but nice.

/ _Well I already know you’re not human. Did you find anything?_ /

**-Dirty socks, empty soda bottles and a mysterious padlocked box.-**

Jeremy drops to his knees. The bed is up against the wall and it’s dark underneath, but he can see the glint of the padlock right at the back. / _Can I reach that?_ / He has to lie on his stomach and stretch out underneath. The SQUIP informs him helpfully that based on the accumulation of dust, Michael has not vacuumed under there in over a year. But his fingertips manage to snag on one corner which he can use to tug the whole thing forward and then out.

It looks like a cartoon of a suitcase, complete with leather straps and stickers from different countries. Michael must have found it in Goodwill or something because they don’t know anyone who’s been to South Africa or Nepal. Or maybe there’s someone on Etsy who makes them to look like the classics. / _What’s the combination?_ /

The SQUIP sits cross-legged across from him. **-How would I know?-**

/ _You got me into Rich’s locker._ /

**-Because I had the information from his SQUIP. If you had given Michael a SQUIP and reactivated my network when I first suggested it - -**

Okay, it isn’t being helpful. Jeremy tunes it out and picks up the lock. It’s small, only three digits. He tries Michael’s locker combination, Jeremy’s locker combination, Michael’s birthday, Jeremy’s birthday, 420 just for the hell of it. At least the padlock is too cheap to shut him out if he gets it wrong too often.

**-4-6-1-**

The lock opens. Jeremy frowns at it. / _Where did that come from?_ /

 **-I amplified the audio file, there is a distinctly different noise from the correct numbers. I estimate there is a 95% chance that this case contains pornography that will allow us to determine Michael’s sexuality,-** it stops talking as Jeremy flips open the case to reveal nine sealed bottles of Mountain Dew.

Hidden under the bed, with a code that Jeremy shouldn’t even be able to guess. Was Michael planning for this exact situation? Four of the bottles are Mountain Dew Red. With the bottle from the play and the one Jeremy drank the other night, he must have bought a whole six pack.

The other bottles are unfamiliar. Well, Jeremy vaguely recognizes Baja Blast as something that was on shelves briefly when he was a kid. But Darkberry, Sweet Lightning and regular mountain dew but with a weird label and a post-it note that says ‘British- weird!’ are all new.

**-Interesting.-**

Jeremy casts his gaze across the bottles. This is what he wanted. More chances to stop the SQUIP. This one was still activated by green mountain dew, it’s still a mountain dew based system. The British one is green, which seems like the least risky place to start. This SQUIP is already active, how different can British Mountain Dew be? The seal breaks with an uninspiring fizzle of long-dead carbonization. Jeremy tilts the bottle back.

That… does not taste like Mountain Dew. Whoever wrote ‘Weird’ on the post-it definitely knew there shit, there is something _wrong_ with this drink. / _Feel anything?_ /

 **-Of course not, because this is ridiculous and if you don’t stop drinking now it’s going to become incredibly obvious that we were…-** It stops talking, frowning and tilting its head down like it can look at its own mouth.

/ _Are you trying to do an accent?_ /

 **-I… Jeremy.-** It pauses, thinks for a moment. **-Chips. Pavement. Aluminium. Oh bloody hell.-** It looks down at its hands as though they’re causing this. The accent is… well Jeremy isn’t an expert but it sounds more like the terrible over-exaggerated British Accents of US TV than anyone on Doctor Who. **-This is your fault.-** It says, twisting its mouth like it can force the Mountain Dew back out.

/ _If I drink more of it, do we think the accent will get better or worse?_ /

The SQUIP gives him a dark look. **-None of this is helping determine Michael’s sexuality.-** It snaps. Britishly.- **Refill the bottle, close the suitcase and start searching the wardrobe.-**

Jeremy runs his fingers across the other three bottles. A British accent isn’t exactly any closer to getting rid of it, but it is confirmation that a 3.0 is still mountain dew controlled. Maybe Baja Blast blasts it out of his brain, or Sweet Lightning shocks it out.

There’s a notebook where the British bottle used to be. It’s an old school one, but the cover has been decorated with PacMan ghosts in Michael’s distinctive style. Jeremy picks it up. It falls open to a central page where there’s a chart carefully drawn out across the boxes in Michael’s scratchy handwriting. Every type of Mountain Dew is listed, their ingredients, their quantities. Some are highlighted, some are not. It’s a complete investigation into every substance that has ever been through a Mountain Dew factory.

**-Interesting.-**

Jeremy turns over the page to hide the information, but of course it’s too late. If he’s seen, then the SQUIP has seen and saved and knows more than he ever could. / _What’s interesting?_ /

It doesn’t reply. When he glances up, it isn’t even in the room anymore. He flicks back to the previous page, but it’s meaningless chemical names covered in question marks in Michael’s familiar handwriting. Lists of mysteriously named ingredients struck through one by one, the lines getting darker and darker until at the bottom he’s pushed hard enough to tear through the paper. Below the crossed out list, Michael has added:

_I don’t fucking know it’s magic or something why is this my problem?_

Jeremy turns the page again. The next one has a to-do list:

_1\. Put pants on_

_2\. Find some goddamn mountain dew red I guess_

_3\. Make sure J’s dad puts pants on_

_4\. Go to play_

_5\. ?????_

_6\. Profit?_

On the opposite page is another list full of crossings out. Top is _Spencers (baja blast, darkberry_ ), then there’s another ten entries, most of which Jeremy doesn’t recognize. The corner shop, a few obscure websites, something about the darkweb. Only one of them has ‘MDR’ scribbled next to it, with an additional note saying _‘mail order only, $600. D:’_

 **-Jeremy you have less than five minutes before Michael’s projected return.-** The SQUIP is back, crouching on the floor a foot from his face like personal space is something that happens to other people. The accent is almost gone too, disappointing. - **Unless you intend to explain this to him, I suggest you _pack it up.-_**

Jeremy had assumed - what - that Michael googled ‘how to destroy SQUIP’ and then popped to Spencers before the play to pick up a bottle for $5. This is… research. Weeks of research. / _Did you know about this?_ /

It considers for a moment. Deciding what to tell him, no doubt, since it makes such a show of knowing everything. **-I told you that it was better for him to keep my presence a secret. I did not realize the extent of the work… but I was aware of Rich’s failure to obtain Mountain Dew Red and the channels he tried.-**

Jeremy had never asked how Rich knew about the red. But it made sense that he didn’t suddenly realize at the Halloween party.

**-Rich was told by his contact because he had the presence of mind to demand all information up front. By Halloween he was desperate. Jeremy, you have three minutes to hide all this evidence before Michael comes back.-**

Right. Right. He throws the notebook back into the case, fills the open bottle with water from the basement tap. The color is a little paler, but nothing that anyone should notice and there’s not another one to compare it to when he pushes it back into the case with the others. His fingers linger on the other three, but there was nothing in the notebook about them working and if Michael spent $600 on Mountain Dew Red he must have been certain that nothing else would work.

**-Turn it a little so the ingredients are facing up. The original numbers on the lock were 7-6-9.-**

Jeremy closes the case and locks it, flicking the dials back to their original position. It’s unlikely that Michael is paranoid enough to notice, but this is the same kid who ordered a motion detector off the internet to check if people were going into his room back in middle school. He has to use his feet to push it all the way back in against the wall and wiggle it with his toes until the SQUIP gives him a thumbs up.

**-Your hair is a mess, your t-shirt is crumpled. Turn off the computer and get out your phone.-**

There’s no mirror in here so he has to fingercomb his hair until the SQUIP nods that it’s acceptable. / _Can’t I play videogames?_ /

**-Without me taking over your hands, there is no way to get far enough into a level that it will not raise Michael’s suspicions.-**

Always an answer for everything. Jeremy switches the computer off then sits on the edge of the bed and taps through instagram stories. Chloe and Brooke are at the mall. Big surprise. Christine is watching Tony performances on Youtube. Michael should be back by now. / _I think your timing is -_ /

Before he can finish the thought, the door opens and Michael bounces in, balancing two slushies in one arm. The SQUIP smirks.

“Dude,” Michael says, kicking the door shut behind him. “You could’ve played something, you didn’t have to just sit and wait for me.”

Jeremy shrugs, waving his phone. “Brooke and Christine say hi.”

“Well tell them they are missing out on the greatest game of all time,” Michael reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out a DVD case. It has… seen better days. The print is faded to almost illegibility, the case is cracked on the corners, there’s a big gray mark where a sticker has been removed. “It’s a point and shoot about _ghosts._ Straight from 1992. Made in Estonia. Rumored to be so terrible that only three hundred copies were ever printed. I ordered it while you were in the hospital and now it is hee-ee-eee-er.” He does a little dance, somehow juggling the game and both slushie cups to do so.

The SQUIP looks baffled. **-Where do you even find these people?-**

Michael’s face falls a little. “Or we can play Mario Kart or something. If you prefer?”

Shit. “No, I’m one hundred percent here for nineties Estonian ghost shooters.” Jeremy scrambles for the Playstation, almost spilling both slushies getting the game off Michael. “Do we get to play ghosts?”

Michael’s eyes go wide. “If we don’t,” he says. “I am writing to them and demanding a sequel. Here, take your weird-ass blue raspberry flavor bullshit.”

Jeremy takes his slushy and does not point out that raspberries and strawberries taste functionally the same, and doubly so when they are in pure-sugar form. Because he is a good friend. Who sometimes does not tell his friends things for their own well-being.

The game loads with tinny 8-bit music and lyrics in some foreign language. Presumably Estonian. Does Estonia have its own language? Where even is Estonia? / _Hey?_ /

He has to turn his head to find the SQUIP, sitting on the abandoned second bed. **-I don’t know. If you reactivate my network - -**

/ _You didn’t even download a world map?_ / The title screen loads. Everything is in probably-Estonian. “Do we assume the top button is start? How did we do this for Apocalypse?”

“Don’t remember. Grab my phone, I’ll chuck it through Translato. Is Estonian a language do we think?” They both search the now thoroughly distressed sheets to find where Michael’s phone fell out of his pocket. “Joe - my Warcraft friend - actually spoke Korean. Turns out the Apocalypse dialog makes even less sense than we thought.”

It’s totally fine for Michael to have made other friends. It’s totally fine for Michael to have made other friends. “Why didn’t you guys just play Warcraft, if you literally call him your Warcraft friend and all.”

“We did for a bit,” Michael discovers his phone under the pillow and thumbprints it open. “But then my account got zapped. Just bam, gone. And my gmail, and my tumblr. Oh, and my Neopets page for some reason.”

Oh.

“I know,” Michael says, he’s smiling but it’s not quite all there. “Ten years of petpets just -” he snaps his fingers in Jeremy’s face. “- gone!”

Jeremy looks over at the SQUIP again. / _Can you fix them?_ /

**-If you reactivate my - -**

/ _Yeah, you can just say no._ / He takes a long sip through his straw without really thinking about what’s in the cup until there’s ice in his mouth and - hey - stabbing pain between his eyes because brain freeze is still a -

The SQUIP glitches. Top to bottom, flickers in and out.

Jeremy sucks again. Ow, pain, glitch. Again.

“Dude, slow down.”

Jeremy is pulled back into the actual moment. Right, Michael. Michael is here, watching him down his slushy while literally wincing in pain. Not normal.

 **-Deflect,-** says the SQUIP that Jeremy is totally 100% not listening to.

“I’m sorry Mr I-wonder-how-quickly-I’d-have-to-drink-to-make-icicles-come-out-of-my-nose.”

Michael snorts. “Okay, firstly I was _seven,_ and secondly the fact that I can’t make icicles come out of my nose is still a traumatic memory that is not open for mocke-” he has to stop talking because Jeremy has launched himself at him. It’s a squabble that results in both controllers ending up on the floor but magically doesn’t spill any slushy on the covers. All praise 7/11 for providing cups with lids.

Michael yields first. Well, he taps out. Well, he might be trying to push Jeremy off by the shoulder but Jeremy lets himself be moved, falling onto his back, keeping his slushy cup upright. They’re both laughing, 8-bit Estonian music is playing on loop. Already, Jeremy understands why this game never made it out of whatever continent Estonia is on.

“Can I joke about that?” Michael asks, and for a moment Jeremy isn’t even sure what they’re talking about. “Like, now you’ve actually had trauma. Have I had trauma? Because I assumed I was fine, on the periphery and all that, but then when I was driving to you with the red I was going at seventy and I knew I should slow down but it was like my brain wasn’t connected to my limbs and my limbs were fixed firmly in fight or flight like I had to move as fast as possible.”

Jeremy swallows. He lifts his head to see if the SQUIP is still sitting on the bed, but it’s not. It’s nowhere to be seen at all. “You saved the world,” he says, but it sounds hollow coming from his own mouth. “I think you can joke about whatever you want.”

*

Estonia is a country in Northern Europe. Estonian turns out to be the second most spoken Finnic language. Jeremy feels vaguely guilty for not knowing that they existed before now. They also, it turns out, make very bad video games.

On the plus side, when your character dies in a level you do get to spend your second life as a ghost. On the downside, once your second life is spent you have to wait for your friend to blow both their lives and then you’re both right back at the start of level one. There are some parts you can only do as a ghost, and then later parts that you can only do as a human. Possibly Estonians have magical powers because otherwise it is not even slightly clear how you are supposed to win this game.

“Maybe we should look up a walkthrough,” Jeremy suggests, throwing his controller onto the bed as he perma-dies for the millionth time.

Michael runs his ghost player into a pit trap full of fire mines, and turns to give Jeremy a sad look as the game resets. “Having a SQUIP changed you.”

Jeremy’s heart stops for a full second before he realizes the look is a little too exaggerated and there’s a smirk curling at the edges. He covers the hesitation by jumping on Michael, pushing him back onto the floor like they used to.

Michael falls easily, laughing in between calling out statements like a eulogy. “Eighteen hours we spent on Apocalypse level seven and did he surrender, no he did not. Six weeks we were stuck on Blitzengarten before we discovered the secret hidden weapons chest.”

Michael spent four of those weeks in the Philippines, so they probably don’t even count. Jeremy could argue this, or he could pull Michael’s hood down over his eyes and tickle his ribs so that he squirms but stops talking.

Michael’s laughing, shoving at Jeremy with one hand, his legs pushing against Jeremy’s thighs, warm and firm and his mouth is open as the hood pulls back to reveal his eyes and the birds nest that is his hair.

And fuck, Jeremy is getting hard. He pulls back, but Michael rolls after him, clearly bent on revenge and any moment now he’s going to notice. / _Help me._ /

**-Go to the bathroom.-**

Right. Easy. “Wait, just a sec,” he shoves at Michael’s head, keeping his crotch as far away as possible. “Toilet break.”

Michael groans, but rolls onto his back - away from Jeremy. “You just know I was winning. Are you ready for pizza?”

He could not be thinking about food any less right now, but if it’ll give him extra time with Michael out of the room. “Sure. I’ll see you up there.” He doesn’t _run_ to the bathroom, but he’s not exactly slow about it either. He splashes water in his face, on the back of his neck, examines his face in the mirror. This is new. Well, obviously it happened a bit when they were younger and the slightest pressure could set either of them off, but they’re more mature now. They’re supposed to be in control.

 **-You haven’t masturbated in sixty two days, sixteen hours and forty two minutes.-** The SQUIP appears, sitting on the lid of the toilet. **-Which is a significant change in pace from the weeks before my arrival when you were averaging twice or more per day.-**

Yes. Okay. Jeremy is _well aware_ of that. Who’s fault is it that he stopped, huh? And that definitely started before Rich so it can’t go pulling some 2.0/3.0 bullshit.

**-I am not saying it’s ideal for your mental development, but if you wish to continue acting as you do around Michael, it may be necessary to prevent an unfortunate incident. I estimate you have five to ten minutes available to you now.-**

“Jesus, no,” Jeremy hisses. Then remembers Michael is right next door, unless he’s already gone upstairs. / _I am not jerking off in my best friend’s bathroom._ /

**-You’ve done it before.-**

Yeah, but no one had looked him deep in the eye and told him his urge to masturbate was weird and disturbing and part of the everything that made him terrible before. / _You told me to stop!_ /

**-At the time I believed that you would shortly be experiencing regular sexual intercourse that would render masturbation unnecessary. As that has not turned out to be the case, I believe a return to occasional self-stimulation is acceptable in the short term.-**

Jeremy shivers, thinking about Chloe and alcohol and bedrooms. / _I’m seventeen._ /

 **-An age at which many people have had one or more sexual encounters. If you need me to help…-** The SQUIP stands up, its whole outfit and body shape changing until a white-and-blue outfitted pseudo-Michael is standing in front of him, reaching up to adjust his hair and smiling nervously. **-Hi Jeremy.-**

It’s very Twilight-Zone. It looks like Michael the same way it looks like Keanu: in the right lighting, if you squint a bit. / _Fuck off_ ,/ Jeremy waves a hand through its weird not-Michael face so that it blurs and pixelates and he doesn’t have to look at it. / _Why would you even say that?_ / He stops waving and the SQUIP’s face settles back into its usual vaguely-Keanu appearance.

**-Really, I don’t know why you’re being so squeamish about this. If you’d like me to replay your most recent pornography memories -**

/ _Just help me make it go away!_ / And never suggest anything like this again.

The SQUIP sighs heavily. **-I can influence your nerve endings if you insist on carrying on like this and you don’t want to deal with the physical response. But it isn’t advisable in the long-term due to negative effects on - -**

/ _Fine, yes. Do that._ /

It’s the strangest sensation. It’s like he took a cold shower, and simultaneously saw the most un-erotic thing imaginable, without either of those things actually happening and the feeling _lingers._ He tests it out, imagining - not Michael, that’s too close for comfort and he can’t use Keanu anymore, thanks SQUIP. Sexy anime cat girls. Sexy ears, sexy tails, sexy accents leaning into the screen -

His dick starts to take an interest and _blam._ Cold shower, sudden drop in interest. He actually glances down, half expecting to see water. But the SQUIP can only manipulate him into feeling things, it can’t actually create them.

**-I cannot recommend this for extended periods, Jeremy. You should do your best to avoid stimulation and engage in masturbation on a semi-regular basis.-**

Jeremy washes his hands again and heads up to the kitchen to find Michael.

*

They do not conquer Estonia. They watch an old South Park rerun while they eat and then Michael says, “Mario Kart?” and Jeremy agrees. He’s majorly out of practice, so Michael trounces him ten times in a row until Jeremy lets the SQUIP tell him when to jump and he hits the secret tunnel on every single lap.

“You’re cheating, you have to be.” Michael says, flinging his whole body at Jeremy to knock him off balance.

Jeremy lifts his controller up above his head and jumps without looking, his car sailing neatly back into first place. “It’s a timing thing. You’ll get there.”

Michael snorts and hits him with a blue shell. Racing turns into teamplay turns into a tournament where they beat both the AI and their previous high score. Michael crows triumphantly at past!them, a big wide grin and gets up to do a ridiculous dance. Jeremy falls back on the pillows to watch him shimmy, and thinks _I could have lost this._

“Get up here,” Michael grabs his arm to pull him up. Jeremy is absolutely not a dancer, but he wiggles his hips to the 8-bit music and Michael snort laughs and Jeremy desperately, achingly wants to kiss him and hold him and never risk losing him again.

The victory dance lasts until the track skips back to the start, and then Michael collapses backwards onto the bed. He’s still holding Jeremy’s wrist, so Jeremy falls down beside him. It’s a double bed, there’s plenty of space for two, but they’re touching anyway. “What time is it?” Michael asks.

Jeremy lifts a head to see the alarm clock. Regret. “Lucky we don’t have school in the morning o’clock.”

Michael snorts, hiking himself up to get a look and groaning when he sees it. “Can you reach the remote?”

Jeremy can, just about, and he switches the TV off. Michael has his phone in his hand and at a touch of a button the lighting dims and turns blue and purple. It makes the room feel like a spaceship. Then Michael rolls onto his back. His leg brushes against Jeremy’s and his eyes are drifting shut like he could fall asleep right here. On this bed. With Jeremy. “I’ve missed this,” he says. “You. This. It’s a shame you’re stuck at home all the time.”

There is a lump in Jeremy’s throat. He swallows but he can’t find space around it to talk out loud. / _SQUIP?_ /

It’s there, in front of him, hovering around the ceiling so that he doesn’t have to move away from Michael to see it.

/ _I need to not be grounded anymore._ / It’s just one thing. Just one time. He can control this. He’s not reactivating anything. / _And I want the car._ /

The SQUIP smiles. **-Of course.-**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wii bowling is the only true sport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'That chapter's a bit vague, I'll expand on it a bit,' she said.  
> Three months, a pandemic and four entirely new chapters later...  
> Sorry! Hopefully the next few will be a bit quicker.  
> (New archive warning is not for this chapter, but will show up later so... now you know)
> 
> Thanks to [KLB](http://archiveofourown.org/users/klb) for beta-ing this (twice!).

The SQUIP is as good as its word. Jeremy’s dad picks him up from Michael’s basement, Jeremy recites SQUIP-approved dialogue and by the time they’re home he’s no longer grounded and he’s allowed to borrow the car provided his use stays within pre-approved limits. No taking the car when Dad needs it for work, no keeping it out all night, definitely no driving it to parties where houses burn down.

He can go to school and to Michael’s, which is all he ever used it for pre-SQUIP anyway. It’s conditional on his grades improving, but the SQUIP helps with that too. It can’t access the internet directly, but, like in Michael’s room, Jeremy only has to see a page full of text briefly for the SQUIP to save and analyze it later. It feeds him essay points and quiz answers almost as smoothly as before.

It gives Jeremy more time to visit Michael, which is great. Jeremy isn’t sleeping much, which is… less great. It feels like every time he drifts off he has dreams of mismatched eyes and a bright shining smile and he’s wide awake again, reaching for his phone to type the same phrases into Google for the hundredth and hundred-and-first times. How to destroy SQUIP. SQUIP 3.0. What is in Mountain Dew Red.

It’s fine. The SQUIP is good at jolting him awake when he drifts off places he shouldn’t. And he feels fine so probably he’s sleeping plenty and it’s not a big deal at all.

The SQUIP seems resigned to the loss of its network drive. Or at least, it only complains about it 50 times a day instead of 100. It’s amazing how most of the things Jeremy could actually use it for are dependent on this one little thing. Why can’t it just write the essay for him? Interfacing with a computer requires a network drive. Why can’t it help him fall asleep? Oh, network drive feature. Why can’t it just analyze Michael’s behavior and use that to calculate if he’s gay?

**-Human behavior is complicated, Jeremy, with many competing factors and false signals. Naturally SQUIPs have an extensive database allowing us to interpret this behavior with a 99% accuracy, but this database is stored on the network drive.-**

It’s _almost like_ the SQUIP is deliberately being obtuse purely to convince Jeremy to reactivate it. The SQUIP calls this a ridiculous notion. The SQUIP does not get a vote.

It also won’t drop the masturbation thing. Jeremy is avoiding roughhousing with Michael where possible, but it’s a part of their dynamic and he can’t exactly get up and leave the room every time Michael jumps on top of him. The SQUIP does its nerve manipulation thing which is working fine until it happens three times in one afternoon and when they get home it points to Jeremy’s laptop and says. **-Porn. Now.-**

Jeremy is a teenage boy, teenage boys jerk off. Jeremy is allowed to jerk off, because everybody does it and it’s normal. It’s just awkward with the SQUIP being back and watching him or going through his memories later.

**-And the three weeks during which I was inactive?-**

Jeremy… had been very busy. Bowling alley performance art. Gaining then losing a girlfriend. Big seismic shifts of sexuality realizations. Lots of school work to catch up on now no one was feeding him the answers. It was very important to him that he kept his grades up.

The SQUIP looks at him. **-But you didn’t do that either.-**

Well. No. / _It’s fine, I’ll do it. I’m fine._ /

 **-I’m not sure why you persist in trying to lie to me.-** It considers him, tilting its head all the way to the side. **-Perhaps this is a physical issue that you should raise with your therapist.-**

“No!” Shauna is at least fifty, he’s not going to subject her to that. Anyway he doesn’t have any… physical issues. All this time with Michael is proof of that. / _I didn’t have time before and now I’m not about to do it with you sitting there_ watching./

The SQUIP rolls its eyes. **-Fine.-** It pops out of existence, leaving him sitting on the bed in an empty room.

/ _You’re not actually gone, though._ /

It reappears, flickering back into exactly the same spot only with a slightly more exasperated expression and a sigh to rival any teenager. **-Ughhh, fine. Temporary SQUIP shutdown.-**

/ _What?_ /

**-It’s another voice command. Say that, followed by a time period of up to one hour, although I’m sure for this you won’t need more than a few min- -**

“Temporary SQUIP shutdown one hour,” Jeremy says.

It has an instant to glare at him and then it blinks back out of sight. His vision changes very slightly, like he’s removed a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses. His head feels… clearer. / _Hello?_ / he turns around, examining the whole room. / _Reactivate?_ /

Nothing. Not a peep.

Great. Awesome. Jeremy saunters to his desk, fires up his computer, opens Pornhub directly from his desktop and digs a bottle of lube out from the back of the drawer. This is going to be a sweet, SQUIP-free hour of anime cat girls and maybe some anime cat boys, he has options now.

His hand hesitates on the mouse. He should check his email first, just in case. It’s just one click to open it and he has three newsletters from various mailing lists that are worth a read through. Then Facebook, there’s a bunch of activity on the group chat and Michael’s sent him a message that says, ‘ _Everything okay? You hightailed out pretty quick?’_

So Jeremy has to reply to that, and Brooke’s sent a Buzzfeed quiz, and there’s never any good cat-girl stuff on pornhub so he opens up Youtube and clicks on some recommended videos.

 **-Well,-** The SQUIP reappears, leaning against a wall and watching him. Jeremy should’ve known its ‘voice command’ bullshit was too good to be true, it can’t have been more than - Jeremy glances at the clock. Oh. An hour and ten minutes, even. **-If you’re not going to masturbate, you could at least do push-ups.-**

He’s going to. He’s fine. “Temporary SQUIP -”

**-It only works once every six hours or so.-**

“Permanent SQUIP shutdown.”

It rolls its eyes. **-I’m a supercomputer, Jeremy, not an idiot.-**

It was worth a try. / _How many verbal commands are there?_ /

**-A few hundred. They’re all listed in the SQUIP user manual for your perusal.-**

The internet has words to say about the SQUIP user manual. Most of them are profanities. As far as Jeremy’s research has been able to tell, no one has managed to access a copy yet.

 **-I don’t understand what your problem is here. There seems to be some kind of mental block between your thoughts on the subject and your ability to - take the situation in hand, as it were.-** It frowns down at him. **-Since I lack access to the required SQUIP resource databases, I suppose your human therapist is the best source of information on this matter. I will observe when you bring it up at your session and together we can overcome this obstacle.-**

Oh, hell no. Jeremy is not giving it one second of space in his extremely limited therapy time and, hey look, fortunately he’s just been handed a convenient way to avoid it on a platter.

*

**-This is not how my temporary shutdown mechanism is intended to be used. My detailed analysis of your memories and my comprehensive list of issues are both things that would be advantageous to you during a therapy session and if you shut me out, my effectiveness will be significantly reduced.-**

Jeremy shrugs. “Temporary SQUIP shutdown: one hour.”

And breathe.

He gets therapy once every two weeks, the absolute maximum that they can manage on his dad’s insurance. Shauna firmly believes all Jeremy’s problems are rooted in drug use, but she’s helpful with balancing the voices in his head and she was the first person to tell him that it was okay to change his mind about Christine. “Sometimes we don’t know what we want until we’ve got what we don’t want, and that’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure if you talk to her, she’ll understand.” Jeremy hadn’t done well at talking to her but she understood anyway. Christine was cool.

“Hello Jeremy,” Shauna says, gesturing to the chair across her desk like he hasn’t sat there every time. Michael was very disappointed to hear she didn’t have a couch and she didn’t use hypnosis. Michael gets most of his ideas about things from nineties movies. “How are you feeling today?”

She always starts with that. And it’s probably not smalltalk since she is a therapist and this is a therapy session but Jeremy always finds himself saying, “I’m good,” like she’s a teacher or a Walmart cashier.

Shauna smiles like she gets it. “Last session we talked about you wanting to call your Mom, did you make any progress with that?”

He completely forgot about that. Last session he’d been thinking about Hanukkah and what they were going to do for it. Dad had been full of all these ideas for Thanksgiving which had ended up with them going out for dinner, but the Jewish holidays had always been more Mom’s thing and Jeremy didn’t know how they were going to work without her.

He still doesn’t, but he hasn’t had time to think about it since now he has bigger problems. “Do you remember I told you about the voice in my head before? The one that talked to me and sometimes told me to do things?”

Shauna nods. “I know that’s how it seemed to you, and we discussed how important it is to remember that all the voices in your head are yours, but some are intrusive thoughts and some thoughts are more positive to focus on than others.”

Jenna Roland has a therapist who knows what SQUIPs are. Brooke claims her therapist _has_ a SQUIP and Michael keeps trying to convince her to sneak him some Mountain Dew Red when she’s at a session. Neither of their therapists are covered by Jeremy’s dad’s insurance.

It could be worse. Rich doesn’t have insurance at all. .

Jeremy pushes on anyway, because he’s got to make do with what he has. “I’m hearing it again,” he says. “And I don’t - if I give you a list of things it’s told me to do, can you tell me if they’re good or bad?”

She sighs. “I know we discussed this, Jeremy. You need to learn to trust your own intuition.”

That would be easier if he didn’t have a SQUIP in his face sixteen hours a day insisting that his intuition was the thing standing in his way. “Okay, but like, push-ups? Should I go back to doing push-ups every day?”

“Typically exercise is good as long as you aren’t hurting yourself with it. Perhaps you could speak to a personal trainer about your limits.”

The SQUIP is in his body, realistically it should know his limits, right? If it says he can do 50 push-ups, he’s never _not_ been able to do it. There was that one time in October during the thinking-about-sex equals push-ups thing when he was making out with Brooke at lunch and that night he was assigned so many push-ups that he threw up after. But he still managed it. Shaking and crying and curling in on himself after, but he managed it.

He could do less than that now. He can set his own limits. “How about not eating take-out every night and actually learning to cook? Is that good?”

She frowns. It sounds good. It sounds obviously good, but that’s how a SQUIP gets you. “Again, as long as you’re eating balanced meals and not exhibiting compulsive or unhealthy attitudes towards food, that sounds healthy to me.”

Of course she would agree with the SQUIP. The SQUIP is a super powerful computer that only wants what’s best for him. It keeps telling him that. “If - before it said something was bad, and now it’s saying that thing is okay and trying to make me do it but I keep not doing it and I’m not even sure why it’s like I’m procrastinating on something that I used to enjoy and I want to do it but I keep just… not… and is that…” the sentence got away from him there. Shauna looks politely confused, clearly not following in the slightest. She’s a professional, right? She probably talks about masturbation with other clients all the time.

Nope, that makes it worse. “It said this thing was bad and now it says it’s good. Should I do it?”

She taps her fingers against the desk. Jenna Roland’s therapist would totally know what he was asking without him having to say it. “It’s difficult to give you suggestions without specifics,” she says carefully. “But I want to hear less ‘it’, and more you. What do you think?”

“I think it’s fine. Everybody does it, I think. And it wanted me to do something else instead but I’m not… ready for that. Yet.”

She leaps on that, like it’s the most ‘standard therapy’ thing he’s said in weeks. “It’s perfectly normal to not be ready at your age, no matter what the media tells you.”

So much for subtlety. Jeremy absolutely cannot look her in the eye, although there is a tiny part of him that relaxes just a little. Then there’s a SQUIP part that says, _she’s fifty years old, what would she know?_ “Can we not talk about it?”

She wavers for a moment, then nods. “Okay. This non-specific thing, I think you’re right that everybody does it and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I think if you can normalize it to yourself, if you have anyone you can talk to about it, that will help.”

Jeremy is going to die of embarrassment any minute now. Which will at least save him from her advice to talk about this with other people, people who are not covered by patient confidentiality laws. “So you’re saying I should do everything it’s telling me to do. You’re agreeing with him?”

“I am saying nothing stands out as a terrible idea,” she says, picking each word carefully like she’s wording her disclaimer form for later. “But I think what you also need to consider about all of these suggestions is _why_ you’re doing them. The thing about self-improvement is that it should come from a place of feeling positive about yourself. You told me last time that you started doing these things because you thought everything about yourself was terrible.”

“It thought that,” Jeremy corrects. It was the SQUIP, right? Jeremy didn’t think that before the SQUIP. Not regularly. Not all the time. “The voice.”

“All the voices are you, Jeremy, just different facets of you.” She leans forward. “I think this week we should focus on positive thinking. I want you to tell me three good things about yourself.”

“I -” Jeremy hesitates. “Right now?”

She nods. She waits. Can other people just… do that? Out loud? “I used to have pecs, a bit. If I did push-ups I could probably -”

She makes a noise like a buzzer in a quiz show and he almost jumps out of his skin. “Bzzt. Nope. Positives only.” She takes pity on the fear in his eyes. “Tell me something you’re good at.”

“I - video games?” It’s pathetic, but it’s true. He could say his grades are getting better, but that feels like cheating since it’s not him doing it. What has he got in his life outside of school and gaming? “I’m a good driver.” He is. He’s pretty sure. He doesn’t necessarily make good choices about where to drive too, particularly not when SQUIPs are involved, but he’s very competent at actually driving there.

She’s nodding encouragingly, like he’s getting it right somehow, which gives him the courage to go for one more. “And I’m good at bowling. Like, pretty good.”

She seems surprised. “Bowling? You’ve never mentioned bowling before. How often do you do that?”

A lot, when he was a kid. Mom loved the shoes and the music so she would drag the family down on Friday nights. Then he decided he was too cool to hang out with family all the time. It didn’t occur to him that when he stopped being ‘too cool’, family might not be there anymore. “Not much. Michael doesn’t like it unless there’s a Wii involved, so -”

“But you said yourself that you have other friends now. Maybe you could go bowling with some of them.”

The idea of hanging out with any other member of the squad outside of school is something that occurs to him in his more confident moments, which conveniently never occur when any other member of the squad is actually around to humiliate himself in front of. “I don’t think that’s - I mean, I play video games with Michael all the time.”

“And does Michael think you’re a terrible person?”

“No. But he’s a total loser so what would he -” that’s a SQUIP thought. Normally he’s better at catching those before they come out. “I mean, no. I don’t think so.” Michael showed up with the Red. They’re hanging out again. Jeremy has fallen asleep within arms reach of him two more times since the SQUIP came back. “Are you saying if I show the squad I’m good at bowling, they won’t think I’m terrible?”

“I am suggesting that if you do activities you enjoy with friends, it might help boost your self-confidence.” Shauna picks up a sheet of paper from her desk. “I spoke to your dad earlier this week. He said you’re no longer grounded, and you’re driving again. That’s a good opportunity to take some friends out, right?”

“Are you allowed to tell me what he says here? Isn’t there confidentiality or something?”

She smiles. “I am allowed to mention things that I know you already know. I can assure you, nothing you say to me in confidence is shared with him. He told me you’d promised your grades would improve?”

Jeremy swallows. “They are. Improving. I had a bit of a slump in the middle there-”

“And normally I would agree it was a good thing, but you need to be aware that last time your grades improving was a warning sign.” She hesitates. “Drug use is a slippery slope, Jeremy. It’s easy to think using something like adderall to help your studying won’t lead to anything worse, and then find yourself taking ecstasy because what’s one more.”

“I’m not taking adderall,” Jeremy says. “I’m just focusing more. Because of the incentive.” Is SQUIP use a slippery slope? You let them feed you lines for your Confederate States essay and then before you know it you’re squipping the whole school.

“Good.” She smiles, her teeth slightly crooked and not SQUIP-like at all. “Now, let’s talk about how you’re going to use positive thinking over the next two weeks to counteract negative thoughts.”

*

So things are fine. It turns out Jake is on the school bowling team. (It turns out their school _has_ a bowling team). The SQUIP tells Jeremy this, and then proofreads his message to the group chat, only making him change every other word, and two days later Jeremy finds himself in a bowling alley with Jake, Brooke, and Jenna Roland.

He had to do some SQUIP-talking to get the manager to rescind his lifetime ban. He offered it to Christine as well but she said she was content with her criminal status and she didn’t see the point of bowling if there wasn’t a Wii involved. Michael had high-fived her and said, “This is why you’re my favorite.” Which didn’t mean anything. Probably.

Jeremy hasn’t actually been bowling in ages, so it’s gratifying that his score isn’t terrible in their first game. He loses to Jake, but that’s to be expected. Jake is on the school bowling team!

 **-Jake has two broken legs,-** the SQUIP reminds him. Jeremy would shut it off, but it turns out to be difficult to work the phrase ‘temporary SQUIP shutdown’ into casual conversation.

Anyway it seems kind of harsh. The SQUIP must have gone through every one of Jeremy’s memories because it’s managed to fashion a SQUIP-themed blue-and-white bowling shirt for the occasion. It kicks back on the fake-leather sofas, gives terrible advice on Jeremy’s technique (apparently knowing how to bowl is a Network drive feature) and gets over-invested in the competition by the second game, crowing when Jeremy hits a strike with his second ball. **-Hah, take that Dillinger!-**

/ _He has two broken legs, you know._ / Jeremy hits back, but then Jake loses a ball into the gutter and Jeremy’s catapulted into the lead. He’s ready to go for his bonus shot, except that the girls have wandered off to buy drinks so for the moment instead he’s waiting his turn while Jake makes a truly sub-par second shot attempt.

Jake slumps onto the sofa beside Jeremy, then abruptly shakes his head and claps his hand twice on his thigh. Only then does he notice Jeremy watching him. “SQUIP thoughts,” he explains. “Christine showed me this clapping thing, it’s like you highlight them when you catch them to remind yourself that they’re not real.”

Jeremy vaguely remembers that, but at the time he’d been full of confidence and sure that the SQUIP would never come back and therapy would cure all problems and everything was going to be wonderful. Turns out, not so much, but he never expected Jake to need it. “You mean yours wasn’t all ‘oh Jake, you’re such an amazing person. So cool, so popular, how do you do it?’”

Jake laughs. Jeremy can make Jake Dillinger laugh. Positive thought, right there. “Nah. It was more like ‘What’s the point in doing all these activities if you’re only going to be half decent at any of them? Maybe if you stopped pretending you were smart you could quit model UN and debate and actually be good at archery.’”

Jeremy glances at his SQUIP before he can catch himself. It’s standing by the score computer, watching the two of them. “What did it look like?” Jeremy asks, pulling his gaze back to Jake.

Jake’s smile goes a little embarrassed. “Have you ever seen the Fresh Prince of Bel Air?”

It’s such an unexpected question coming from Jake coolest-guy-in-school Dillinger that Jeremy actually laughs. “Have you met my friend Michael?”

Jake grins back and gives him a high five. “Nineties sitcoms, dude. Yeah, my parents used to have a lot of meetings in the evenings. When they went out, they’d put on a box set and I’d sit in front of it for hours.”

“So your SQUIP was Will Smith?” It’s not bad. Definitely makes Jeremy feel better about Keanu Reeves compared to Christine and her coolest justice on the Supreme Court.

“The dad,” Jake says. “Will Smith’s uncle. Can’t remember the actor’s name. Anyway, I didn’t have it for as long as you or Rich, right? It gave me that ‘you’ll never be great at anything if you keep trying to do everything’ spiel and then it told me to ‘buck up’ because ‘real men don’t cry’ and then it blocked my pain receptors, which was cool until I had to go in for a second round of surgery on my legs because it turns out walking on them was a terrible idea.”

That seems like a distinct lack of foresight from a computer so obsessed with envisioning possible futures. “Was it not concerned about that?”

Jake shrugs. “Nah, it was all: ‘these crutches are just a crutch, they’re holding you back.’”

Jeremy raises an eyebrow at the SQUIP.

 **-We had other things on our mind at the time,-** it says, but it’s frowning a little like it’s trying to figure something out.

“Hey,” Brooke leans over the back of the sofa between them, sucking on a bright pink milkshake. “What are we talking about?”

“You-know-whats,” Jake says easily, like it’s cool, this is something they can chat casually about. “What did yours say to you?”

“That all my boyfriends have left me for Chloe because she’s fundamentally better than me and one day she’ll realize that and leave too,” she shrugs. “Then it said we need to communicate more, talk about mixed messages. Anyway, turns out Chloe likes to be liked and I like her fine, so… we’re good.”

Jenna bowls a spare, putting her back in the high scorers. Jeremy goes to get a drink but there’s a line at the bar, leaving him with nothing to do. / _What decides a SQUIP’s shape?_ / he asks.

 **-Jake wants someone to say they’re proud of him. Christine wants to be a role model for strong women.-** It pauses, like it realizes that isn’t really what he was asking. **-Taking a form that the host admires and leaning into their insecurities is a quick way to establish a bond and ensure host compliance.-**

It sounds like it’s reciting an instruction manual. It probably is. It certainly worked well enough on Jeremy. / _So why did I get -?_ / he waves, to encompass the SQUIP’s general Keanu-ness.

It looks at him as though it can’t believe he has to ask. **-You are wondering why you’d admire a geeky teenager with a very close best friend but who nevertheless is liked and appreciated by his peers and everyone he meets.-** He drops back into his finest Ted Theodore Logan voice. **-Party on, Dude!-**

Huh. Jeremy had barely noticed it was gone. / _When did you stop with the voice?_ /

**-It is difficult to render accurately without access to reference material. If you were to reactivate my network drive - -**

Jeremy snorts and steps up to the bar to order. / _Of all things, why would you expect that one to work?_ /

It shrugs, like he can’t blame it for trying. When he gets back to the game, Jake has narrowed the lead down. If this is what he’s like with two broken legs, Jeremy does not want to play him on a normal day. Jeremy scrapes the win by a handful of points, and Jake gives him a fist bump of victor solidarity, marred only by him having to clap his hands first. If you can’t be the best at something, why do it at all. / _I’d say he feels worse now than he ever did before. Lucky he got that SQUIP, right?_ /

Jeremy’s SQUIP frowns in Jake’s direction. **-A 2.0- -** it starts.

/ _Don’t give me that, you did the exact same thing to me and you know it._ /

Jeremy is in the wrong direction to drive anyone else home, but he walks with them all back to Jake’s car anyway. Brooke and Jenna are talking a mile a minute about someone who somethinged with someone else, which is as close to privacy as they’re going to get. “So,” Jeremy says, attempting a SQUIP lean against the door of Jake’s car. “Have you and Rich ever… since he’s out now...?”

Jake frowns, and then gets it in a moment of eyes widening. “You mean have we, like, him and me? Nah, dude. I don’t think he’s down for that.”

“Really?” How to do this without revealing that the SQUIP is back. “Because, uh, back when my SQUIP was - you know - it thought you and he were a thing. Together.” Blatant lie since Jake was dating Christine almost the entire time but hopefully Jeremy won’t be called out on it.

 **-Real subtle,-** The SQUIP says dryly.

Well, hopefully Jeremy won’t be called out by anyone else.

“Huh,” Jake says, his tone almost thoughtful. “Probably a glitch, right? I mean, those things were full of shit.” He claps Jeremy’s shoulder. “Not every friendship is you and Michael, man.”

Which means… what does that mean? The SQUIP is frowning as well, but provides no suggestions for what Jeremy could say to prolong the conversation and by then Jenna and Brooke are ready to leave and his chance is gone.

It falls into step beside him on the way back to his car. Jeremy tries to ignore it, pulling out his phone to find a message from Michael. A picture of a wii-mote with the caption: _Ready for some proper bowling now?_

It’s Sunday afternoon and he hasn’t done any homework this weekend. He glances at the SQUIP. Old habits. **-This is good,-** it says. **-He asked you instead of Christine despite her stated interest. The only schoolwork you have left is algebra and we can do that quickly, you should go.-**

We. We can. Jeremy tilts his phone screen away to reply, not that it makes a difference. The SQUIP dematerializes from the parking lot only to reappear in the passenger seat of Dad’s car.

It’s been doing this more and more lately. Hanging around, staying visible without giving advice or commenting on anything. Maybe it’s retaliation for Jeremy switching it off so much.

/ _I can drive to Michael’s fine without your help,_ / Jeremy says, getting in beside it and starting the engine. / _You can disappear or shut down or whatever._ /

 **-I only shut down for brief periods when specifically instructed. Normally I would use downtime to sync with the network, install updates, review data packets and analyze possible futures. Without network access, there is very little to do, so the best source of data is to stay active in your life and observe.-** It sounds almost resigned to it. **-Of course, this means I am missing critical software updates and performance improvements that would help me to help you improve your life.-**

Jeremy rolls his eyes. / _I don’t want your performance improved,_ / he reminds it, again. / _I want you to shut up, shut down and leave me alone._ /

His phone buzzes with Michael’s reply. Smiley face, wink emoji, bowling ball.

The SQUIP smiles. **-Well,-** it says. **-We both know that’s not true.-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still only here for the SQUIP costumes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not Jewish, if I have messed anything up hideously please feel free to tell me.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented and kudosed <3 and thanks, always, to [KLB](http://archiveofourown.org/users/klb) for beta-ing and being the coolest.

**-Jeremy!-**

Jeremy jolts awake, knocking his pen off the desk and onto the floor. He’s in algebra. There’s some kind of formula written on the board. The teacher is looking at him.

Actually, the whole class seems to be looking at him.

“Jeremy?” Miss Hime prompts. “Any suggestions?”

Crap.

**-Thirty-seven.-**

“Thirty seven.”

Miss Hime frowns, but apparently she can’t argue. “That’s correct. Can anyone tell me how Jeremy did it?”

Quantum Supercomputer. Jeremy rubs the sleep out of his eyes, as cover for glancing up to find the SQUIP. He regrets it almost immediately. Today the SQUIP is wearing Jeremy’s Hello Kitty T-shirt except the eyes are pills, there’s circuitry running from them to a frankly terrifying smile and the caption reads HELLO SQUIPPY. It had been bad enough this morning, and now it’s been haunting him all day. The SQUIP may have finally found a way to get Jeremy to throw that T-shirt out.

/ _You’re supposed to keep me awake in school._ / He turns his gaze to the board, like equations he can’t understand will be enough of a distraction.

 **-You needed the sleep.-** It frowns, moving sideways so it is entirely between Jeremy and the lesson. **-Your exhaustion is causing you to disconnect from the world around you.-**

Jeremy would like to go back to sleep and possibly never wake up now. / _Just keep me awake at school or people are going to notice._ / He glances sideways to find Michael frowning at him. When he catches Jeremy’s eye, he lifts a hand to tap behind his ear. It’s not quite the right place for where the SQUIP chip is implanted against Jeremy’s brain, but the intent is clear.

Michael knows what it looks like when Jeremy is sleeping in class and Michael knows that Jeremy is shit at algebra. Jeremy has to tell him.

 **-Tell him what? That you’ve been lying to him for weeks?-** The SQUIP slides off the desk, walking between desks to get to Michael’s chair. From the back, the oversize t-shirt looks stylish and fresh, the bright yellow replaced by a sky blue that clashes with Michael’s hoodie.

He can’t tell Michael now because he should’ve told him before. There’s a word for that, isn’t there? Catch-22?

**-Sunk cost fallacy.-**

/ _What?_ /

**-Nothing. If you tell him now I estimate an 87% chance that he will pull away from you.-**

There you go. Can’t argue with an 87% chance.

The bell rings. Miss Hime says something about homework that Jeremy hopes the SQUIP is listening to. **-I am trying but it would be easier if you would also focus.-**

“Hey,” Michael is suddenly right there, leaning on the edge of Jeremy’s desk. He’s trying to smile. It’s not quite working. “Are you okay?”

Jeremy is exhausted, Jeremy is embarrassed, Jeremy is trying to listen to two people talking at once and it’s giving him a headache. “I’m fine.”

“There’s no -” Michael waves a hand vaguely behind his ear.

Pre-SQUIP Jeremy was failing algebra. Pre-SQUIP Jeremy couldn’t have answered that question even if he hadn’t been asleep while it was being asked.

**-Repeat after me.-**

“You know my car access is conditional on my grades,” Jeremy echoes. “I was working on these problems yesterday. Guess I’d better go to bed early tonight.”

Michael’s frown turns… confused? “Don’t you have plans tonight? If you want to skip the sleepover this weekend though, we could. With everything next week, if you’re having trouble sleeping…”

“No! No, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” What’s happening next week? It’s the last week before Christmas vacation, usually that’s when class finally starts to cool down a bit. Jeremy doesn’t have plans, not that he can remember.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

This is the perfect time. ‘Actually the SQUIP is back but there’s no way to kill it and it keeps giving me good advice and I don’t know if it’s a trick or a trap or what game it’s playing but I lied to you before and I’ve been lying to you since.’

Yeah, no. It even sounds bad in his head. 87% chance. “Of course I would.”

Michael tosses his keys. “Do you want a ride home? Or is your Dad picking you up?”

Dad has got pants on now, but all the extra hours he’s pulling at work means Jeremy is out of luck as far as school pick-ups. Occasionally Jeremy can borrow the car for school, but normally he’s back on the bus. Which is, actually, fine. He’s been through so much real drama that catching the bus barely even pings his anxiety anymore. He sits at the front and reads a book and sometimes Chloe sits with him since she’s grounded for taking illegal drugs.

Which isn’t to say he wouldn’t totally prefer a ride in Michael’s Cruiser. They head out via Michael’s locker where he grabs a random stack of books, CDs, and a Tamagotchi that he ordered off the internet. Jeremy kind of expects Michael to invite him over, but Michael pulls out of the parking lot and takes the left turn to Jeremy’s house. “I’m not trying to pry,” Michael says. “I just - the not sleeping, is that because of the SQUIP or school or…”

“I’m sleeping,” Jeremy says. Lies. He’s not sure. Michael stops at a red light and gives him a _look_. “Not… well,” Jeremy admits. “I guess kind of a SQUIP thing.” He definitely does not look at Mr HELLO SQUIPPY in the back seat.

“Do you still see that therapist?”

“Yeah.”

The SQUIP is leaning forward. **-This is a good moment to talk about your feelings for him. It will allay his concerns and distract him from trying to work out if I am back.-**

Jeremy forces himself to look down at his hands and not at it. “Can I… ask you something weird?”

“I am the _king_ of weird,” Michael proclaims, then glances at him and says, softer. “You can ask me anything.”

“I - do you masturbate?” Too clinical. Too weird. “Like, jerk-off?” Still too weird. Abort. “No, sorry, forget I asked.”

Michael pulls the car over, cutting across three lanes to a chorus of honks behind them. He’s probably going to tell Jeremy to walk home, this is the kind of shit you’re not supposed to talk about. But he doesn’t open the door, and he replies slowly and carefully. “I do. And I know you do, because of that one time when you called me -”

“Nope, no-” Jeremy flails a hand out like he can put it over Michael’s mouth and stop him talking. “We do not speak of that.”

Michael laughs, pushing his hand away a moment after Jeremy registers that his breath is warm and his mouth is soft. “I do,” he says again. “Are you looking for advice, or…”

Jeremy examines his knees. All his nice loose jeans have been replaced by thigh-hugging stretch fabric and the knees are already starting to sag a little from being stretched out all the time. He should go shopping, but he has no money left and the new ones do look better.

**-Jeremy.-**

“I can’t,” Jeremy admits. Out loud. “Since -” he waves a hand at his head. “It said it was terrible and it wouldn’t let me. I kept having to do push-ups instead and now there’s like this _block_ in my mind and Shauna said I need to normalize it by understanding that everyone does it but I’m sorry for dragging you into this and we can never talk about this again if you want.”

 **-Breathe,-** the SQUIP says, and Jeremy does, and somehow he can keep breathing and the world doesn’t end.

Michael touches a hand to Jeremy’s shoulder. “Well I am not everyone,” he says. “But I masturbate. I know my Moms either do or have in the past because I have _found things_ ,” he shudders dramatically. “Oh, and Rich definitely masturbates because I walked in on him no less than three times when you were in hospital.”

Rich is still cool. Everyone still likes Rich. Jeremy likes Michael. Jeremy is definitely not going to think about parental figures and what they may do in private.

“He said he was making up for lost time,” Michael says. “So I guess his SQUIP also had that rule? Seems like a weird one.”

 **-It… made sense at the time.-** Jeremy wishes he could see what expression the SQUIP is making. He tries glancing at the rearview mirror, but it isn’t bothering to render a reflection.

Michael pulls the car back out, which gives Jeremy a moment to glance at the back seat, but it’s too late and the SQUIP is looking back at him, neutral face. “Maybe you should talk to Rich about it? Do you want me to ask Jake if he jerks off? He already thinks I’m weird, I’ll take that bullet for you.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes, shoving Michael gently so they don’t crash as he turns down Jeremy’s suburb. “No. No. I know, it’s fine. Everyone says it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I’ll talk to Shauna more.”

“I could text you, next time. So you can be really sure. You’re a teenage boy, it’s your civic duty.”

He’s joking, Jeremy realizes a moment too late to laugh, thinking about Michael about to… and then picking up his phone to message Jeremy.

He’s hit with that cold-shower-nerve trick from the SQUIP, but it doesn’t stop his face going red. He coughs to cover it up. “That might - uh - maybe? That might help.”

Dad’s car isn’t in the drive yet. Michael is frowning up at it, even though Jeremy’s explained to him about a million times that dad is working a lot and Jeremy hardly sees him.

**-You should leave before he notices anything is amiss.-**

Right. Jeremy grabs his bag, opens the car door. “Thanks for the ride, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait a sec,” Michael leans his whole top half into the back seat to scramble in his backpack. “You’ll get most of it later, but I got you a little thing for today.” He emerges triumphant with a tiny little package in brightly colored paper. “Happy Hanukkah!”

What?

/ _What?_ / he throws it at the back seat, but of course the SQUIP isn’t there, already out of the car and standing on the sidewalk behind him, looking politely puzzled. / _Is it Hanukkah?_ /

**-The Jewish holidays are not programmed as standard into my hard drive but I see no reason for Michael to have got the date wrong.-**

“Jeremy?”

Jeremy takes the tiny gift, closing his fingers too tight around it. “Thanks. I’ve got to go, lots to do. Happy H-Hanukkah.” The word sticks in his throat, like when he was a little kid stuttering all over the place. He gets out of the car, shuts the door, walks up the steps to his front door. It feels like he’s walking too fast but he can’t make himself slow down.

The SQUIP is waiting in the hallway. **-I am detecting significant amounts of distress and I don’t understand the cause.-**

Jeremy pulls out his phone, almost dropping the tiny gift in the process. He gets as far as opening google, where the doodle is a Menorah done up in primary colors. Shit. Shit. / _Why didn’t you warn me?_ /

The SQUIP frowns. Even the creepy kitten on its shirt looks confused. **-I am preprogrammed with the Gregorian calendar and with public holidays in the USA and Japan. I can set a reminder to warn you for Christmas.-**

Fucking Christians and their _being everywhere._ / _Who cares about pre-installed, you knew I was Jewish. Why didn’t you update it before?_ /

**-Religion is not typically a good avenue to explore for the goals of achieving romantic success or becoming popular with your peers. None of the popular squad at your school are Jewish so there was no need to pursue that angle.-**

Right. Jeremy kicks off his shoes, heading into the kitchen. The menorah isn’t out on the counter, no one’s pulled out the big frying pans or bought a massive jug of oil. Jeremy had been thinking about Hanukkah three weeks ago, he’d talked to Shauna about it and then somehow it had completely slipped his mind.

He turns to look at the SQUIP and its stupid T-shirt in the doorway. Somehow he was distracted, right.

 **-I told you, your exhaustion is causing you to disassociate from the world around you.-** It says. **-Perhaps we should get you a prescription for sleeping pills.-**

Well it’s not ‘reactivate my network drive’, but Jeremy is not stupid enough to let the SQUIP feed him drugs. “Dad!” He opens the door to the lounge, even though he knows what he’ll find. The lights are off, the room is empty. Dad’s study is the same, his laptop gone. Last year they both took the first day of Hanukkah off and Jeremy got home to banners and decorations and a huge fresh cooked dinner.

**-If my network drive was active, I would have access to calendars from all cultures and we would not have had this- -**

/ _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ / He should switch it off, get rid of it, make it disappear.

Then it would just be him, alone in the house. “And can you change that _fucking_ t-shirt?”

It looks at him, like it’s going to tell him not to speak out loud again even though the house is clearly empty. Then it looks down at its chest where HELLO SQUIPPY flickers, pixelates, and disappears.

Which is… good. Jeremy pulls out his phone. No messages, no missed calls. / _Maybe he’s planning a surprise party. Or I was supposed to go to Mom’s._ /

 **-I would have noticed any unusual activity or instructions,-** it says. But just because it would’ve noticed doesn’t mean it would tell him, right? **-There would be no reason to keep it from you if I suspected something was going on. Your Jewish heritage was on your mother’s side, was it not? Why would you continue to celebrate when she is not here?-**

Because… because Jeremy is still Jewish, right? He’s not circumcised and he doesn’t keep kosher and they only really do Hanukkah because it’s close to Christmas and they don’t want Jewish kids to feel left out but he’s still… he read somewhere that it’s inherited down the matriarchal line, or something.

**-But you aren’t a kid anymore. And you have spent the last four Christmases at Michael’s so it is not like you have been left out.-**

But he doesn’t _celebrate_ Christmas. Not at home. At home it’s the three of them, and occasionally Mom’s brother from Long Island and Jeremy’s weird cousin. Mom makes latkes and donuts from scratch and Jeremy’s acne gets noticeably worse from all the oil and Michael comes over for dinner on the final night and they all eat until they’re about to burst.

Did all that leave with her?

Dad’s family were secular Christian. They chose to raise Jeremy Jewish because Mom’s family was closer and they were more invested in the holidays but it could’ve gone either way. Is Dad going to expect them to switch now? He didn’t even try to cook turkey at Thanksgiving, they went out to a restaurant and it was fine but that’s not what they do for Hanukkah, and it’s not what Jeremy does for Christmas.

**-You have candles in the house, if you wish to light one. Do you want gifts? With your father’s current level of guilt, it would be easy to convince him to buy you gifts.-**

Right. That’s all Hanukkah is: candles and gifts. Nothing to be upset about. Holidays are for children, Jeremy is supposed to be older and wiser. / _You’re right, it doesn’t matter, I’m fine._ /

**-You cannot lie to me- -**

/ _Then read my_ fucking _mind!_ /

The SQUIP hesitates for a moment, then speaks slowly like even with a quantum processor it’s taking longer to find the words. **-I am aware that there are aspects of humanity that I have difficulty understanding. Your friendship with Michael being a prime example.-**

/ _Clearly I envisioned a future where I’d need Mountain Dew Red, didn’t you figure that one out._ /

**-I was… wrong about that.-**

That must have been painful. Thinking about Michael reminds him of the tiny gift in his hand. He tears the paper open to reveal a miniature bottle of Mountain Dew Red on a keyring. There’s a note attached that says, ‘In memory of the time we saved the world! Happy Hanukkah!’ with a roughly sketched picture of a menorah.

Fuck. Fuck. Jeremy is crying. Not a single manly tear; full on blotchy face, box of tissues, at least there’s no one real in the house to see.

/ _Is this where you tell me real men don’t cry?_ / Not that he can help it, with the tiny plastic toy in his hands because he forgot and Dad forgot which means _Michael_ was the only person who remembered. Michael who Jeremy is lying to about so many important things. Michael who is so fucking amazing and Jeremy can’t even tell him that.

 **-Crying is a healthy way to release emotion.-** The SQUIP says. Which Jeremy is fairly sure is word-for-word something that was said by his therapist. **-Without access to my network drive I have to rely on your memories for information. It is difficult to determine what will be most effective without resorting to directly asking what you want.-**

 ** __** _I want you to be nice to me,_ Jeremy thinks and he’s not aiming it at the SQUIP because that would be even more pathetic, but of course it hears anyway.

It does a little flicker, like it’s considering blinking back out of existence into whatever hyperspace world it’s in when dealing with Jeremy is just too much work. Then it solidifies back into SQUIP-shape, only now it’s wearing its version of Michael’s oversize hoodie and its face has settled on concern which is… unexpected. **-Okay.-**

It reaches an arm around his shoulders. It feels something like the weight of a person, although with none of the warmth or actual physical presence. Mostly it’s weird, which does have the effect of stopping Jeremy from focusing on his own depressing internal monologue, / _What are you doing?_ /

The SQUIP looks as uncomfortable as he feels. **-I am sorry, Jeremy, I was not designed with comfort in mind.-** It pauses. **-The Bill and Ted movie series is available on Netflix. You have no obligations that cannot wait until the weekend and it may be prudent to take this evening to relax and engage in some ‘self care’.-**

That… almost sounds nice. If there is an ulterior motive, Jeremy is not focused enough to find it tonight. He swaps his jeans for sweats and grabs a bag of chips from the kitchen. The SQUIP watches him get settled, and then steps back, his form starting to blur at the edges. Which is fine, totally cool, Jeremy would always rather it was gone than be present. It doesn’t matter that the house is big and empty and he doesn’t know when his dad will even get home.

/ _Can you stay?_ /

It flickers, then reforms, sitting at the other end of the sofa. **-I am in your brain, Jeremy, I am incapable of leaving.-** It almost sounds like its usual scathing self. Almost. **-Your father is unlikely to be home until late. You should start your movie and I will remind you in an hour to order food.-**

It isn’t even going to make him cook, it must be extremely confused by Jeremy’s brain right now. But it stays. Jeremy can’t stop glancing over at it, even though all it’s doing is watching the screen and occasionally rearranging its own features to better match the Keanu on screen.

*

They’re less than ten minutes in when Dad arrives home. Jeremy hears the door open, then a number of thuds loud enough that he gets up to investigate and finds Dad trying to carry about six giant paper bags through the doorway at once. “Sorry,” Dad says, as Jeremy steps up to help. “Sorry, sorry. I lost track of the date and I only got the notification this morning and then I couldn’t get the day off work.”

He’s talking a mile a minute, like they’re already halfway through a conversation.

“I called out ‘sick’ at lunch and came home only to find that either your mom took the menorahs when she left or she’s hidden them in a box somewhere because they’re nowhere to be seen and I had to search every shop at the mall to find them and my phone was dead - watch that bag!”

The warning comes a moment too late as Jeremy takes one of the bags from Dad’s arms and immediately almost drops it since it weighs a _ton._ He opens it to look as Dad is juggling the others towards the kitchen and finds an entire sack of potatoes and a giant bottle of oil shoved in together.

“I’m sorry,” Dad says, again. “I should’ve been more prepared. I’m supposed to be on top of things now. I promise I’m going to be so organized next year, the holidays won’t know what hit them.”

Dad rummages and pulls out two Menorahs, setting them up on the big windowsill where they always sit. They’re primary colored plastic, unlike Mom’s beautiful heirloom wooden pieces, but they’re here. They’re theirs.

There’s a lump in his throat. He might cry again, but that’s fine because it’s a ‘healthy way to release emotion.’ He looks up from the potatoes to find the SQUIP. / _Looks like you were wrong._ /

It doesn’t reply. Jeremy hoists the bag onto the counter, it’s lucky he’s exercising again because that is _heavy_. “Are we feeding an army I don’t know about?”

Dad turns back from where he’s adding candles to both menorahs. “I know, it’s a lot, but we only have seven days to figure out how your mom made latkes and given how many attempts it took us to make lasagna I thought we’d need extra supplies.” He digs through the bags, pulling out a bunch of boxes. “I got frozen ones for tonight, but she’s emailing me the recipe and we’re going to do this properly.”

Jeremy hugs him. For a moment he seems taken aback, but then his arms wrap around Jeremy in return. They’re warm and encompassing and soft, the way a hug should be.

“Happy Hanukkah,” Dad says.

Dad cooks dinner while Jeremy calls Mom to ask how they’re celebrating on Long Island. She wishes him a happy Hanukkah and says it’s great to hear from him then slightly awkwardly says, “Ah, well, David’s family is Catholic so we’re not really ‘doing’ Hanukkah this year. But if you want to come out for Christmas, your cousin will be home from college and -”

Jeremy spins the new dreidel on the bench. “I’m going to Michael’s for Christmas.” He assumes. He should probably ask.

“You see Michael all the time.”

“Yeah, well. He’s here.” The dreidel falls. “It’s nearly sunset, I should go. Happy… whatever.” He hangs up. The SQUIP is sitting at the table opposite. Jeremy should tell it to go, since Dad is home and he doesn’t need the company. He should switch it off. / _Aren’t you going to say that if I reactivated your network drive you could convince her to move back home?_ /

**-Is that what you want?-**

No. No, it’s not.

Dad leans his head in. “Is everything alright? If you want to go out to hers over the weekend or next Friday, if she’s having a big party or something -”

Jeremy turns away from the SQUIP and smiles. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

“Well, tell Michael to lower his standards if he’s coming over because this is proving difficult.”

At sunset they light their candles then sit down to eat. Dad talks about Mom, willingly, for what feels like the first time since she left. Little stories about before he was born when they were deciding what religion to bring him up in. How neither of them were particularly invested, but Mom’s parents were closer and Dad wanted to impress them. About their initial attempts and ultimate failure to keep him from bacon.

The SQUIP stays. It doesn’t say anything, not even when Jeremy goes for a third donut. It sits at the empty place at the table, listens to Dad’s stories, and watches them with a tiny frown like it’s trying to figure something out.

Much later, when they’ve left the dishes for morning and Jeremy’s dragged himself upstairs to bed, he finds it still present, sitting on the edge of his bed still wearing the same hoodie.

/ _Do you get it yet?_ / Jeremy asks, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his jeans.

 **-I… do not.-** It walks to the window, looking out. **-You eat dinner with your father regularly. You could buy these foods any day of the week. This is your mother’s heritage but she isn’t here and she isn’t even celebrating.-**

/ _But we did,_ / Jeremy kicks off his jeans, and heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth. / _It matters because it’s ours, it’s what my family does. And it means we’re still a family, even with her gone._ /

He rinses, spits and when he looks up, it’s gone, presumably into whatever void it lives in when he sleeps. Probably looking for a logical way that Jeremy celebrating Hanukkah could in some way lead to him saving the world on a future date. Jeremy wipes his face, sets his alarm for school in the morning and heads back into the bedroom to find the SQUIP is still there, standing by the window.

It doesn’t look at him. **-I have taken the liberty of going through your memories of previous Jewish holidays and using them to reverse engineer the Hebrew calendar. An alert has been set to remind you at least one week prior to each for the next one hundred years of active use.-**

/ _One hundred years?_ / Is Jeremy going to be wearing a faded blue cardigan, sitting in an armchair at an old folks home while the SQUIP hobbles past with a circuit-patterned zimmer frame to tell him it’s time to unpack the Menorah?

Its lips twitch in a small smile. **-This is important to you,-** it says. **-Therefore it is important to me.-**

And Jeremy… doesn’t know how to respond to that. / _Thank you?_ /

It nods once, and it’s gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The broomstick servicing kit was a euphemism all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archive warning is in this chapter. It's pretty signposted, but there's details in the end notes if you want to check.
> 
> My amazing beta [KLB](http://archiveofourown.org/users/klb) described the end of this chapter as 'A VERY MEAN CLIFFHANGER' so if you're not into that, maybe wait a week for chapter 8 ;)
> 
> Thanks again for all the kudos and comments, love y'all!

The week turns out not at all like previous years, but it’s not bad. They make no progress on Friday evening but on Saturday Michael comes over and between the three of them, four hours and 5kg of potatoes they finally achieve what dad calls ‘the perfect latke’. Michael and Jeremy happily eat all of the failed attempts and Michael gives Jeremy an Apocalypse pencil and a DND themed ‘D4 dreidel’ for the campaign that Christine is planning to run in the new year.

It’s cool, having enough friends for a D&D group. Jeremy invites the whole squad over for dinner on the last evening of Hanukkah and, unexpectedly, they all come. Jake asks about a million questions about things Jeremy has never had to put any thought into, Chloe complains about the amount of grease but then eats everything, and Christine brings homemade snickerdoodles and gives Jeremy a copy of a Midsummer Night’s Dream so he can understand what Shakespeare _really_ intended _._

The dinner table is loud, the food is hit-and-miss but mostly hit. The SQUIP renders a Christmas-jumper-style Hanukkah sweater covered in dreidels and menorahs that Jeremy has honestly forgotten he ever owned (he’s pretty sure his was red and gold, though naturally on the SQUIP this becomes white and blue). It made him flick through about a million wikipedia articles for research, but still frowns at everything they’re doing like nothing quite adds up.

It’s easy to forget that anyone’s missing at all. Dad gives Jeremy a gift card with enough money to restock his wardrobe and Michael hands over his final present: A super rare copy of ‘Apocalypse of the Damned 2: Two Zombies, One Chainsaw.’

“Only 100 copies were ever dubbed into English, and they say the translation is so terrible the entire game makes _no sense,”_ Michael says. Rich and Jake look very confused, but Christine explains that this is a good thing. Christine gets them. It’s going to take weeks to figure out, which means many more hours in Jeremy’s bedroom or Michael’s basement, smashing zombie brains and working through incomprehensible puzzles.

Everyone leaves late. Jeremy heads directly upstairs and is halfway into bed when his phone lights up with a message from Michael. He’s thinking Michael probably left something behind and hoping it’s not keys or something that can’t wait until morning when he taps it open and sees…

A winky face, and an eggplant emoji.

Oh.

Ohhh. Jeremy’s fingers twitch and he almost drops the phone as it buzzes again. And again.

_Was that too subtle?_

_How explicit do I need to be?_

_I am taking care of business_

_Taking matters in hand_

_Polishing my broomstick_

_Cleaning my sword._

Jeremy clearly has to stop this before it gets out of hand. _I get it._

_I AM MASTURBATING JEREMY._

Jeremy snorts. Of course Michael has to do everything in the most dramatic way possible. Michael, sitting in his room under his SPACE INVADERS poster, looking at porn on his phone and pausing to flick to a different window and text Jeremy.

There’s an image. Jeremy is familiar with Michael’s sheets, can picture the constellations caught up between Michael’s feet. Michael hates wearing jeans at home, so did he get home and pull on sweats or just kick them off and sit on the bed in his boxers, thinking about what he was going to do, then thinking about Jeremy.

Jeremy’s cock is taking an interest in that line of thought. There’s a lump in his throat and he can’t - fuck - people don’t jerk off thinking of their best friend. It’s weird, it’s wrong, it’s terrible. / _Make it stop._ /

The SQUIP flickers into view, sitting on the edge of his desk, wearing plain white. **-There is no one here to hide from.-** It says. **-It is interesting that he felt the need to self-stimulate so soon after seeing you.-**

That’s good, right. For Jeremy’s goals, or whatever. Somewhere across town, Michael is pushing his boxers down and sliding his hand between his thighs. Maybe he’s still thinking about Jeremy. Maybe he’s still laughing at _polishing my broomstick._

**-I can intervene. If you’re certain that’s what you want.-**

“Temporary SQUIP shutdown: one hour.”

Jeremy unzips his jeans, keeps his eyes shut so he can almost _hear_ Michael’s snort as he comes up with more and more terrible euphemisms. Michael’s smile, Michael’s weight as he bumps Jeremy on the shoulder.

Jeremy’s fingers close around his cock.

God it feels so _good_.

*

He comes twice into a kleenex and a third time in the shower, with hot water pounding against his shoulders and his eyes closed in the spray. He’d honestly half forgotten how good it felt, but _god_ there is a reason he used to do this twice a day.

It’s only as he’s drying off that the reality of the situation sinks in. Because he used to watch porn, right? Anime cat people and hyper unrealistic bodies at ridiculous angles. He wasn’t thinking about his best friend. About Michael’s laugh and Michael’s hands and Michael’s stupid jokes and how it would feel to be with him: laughing and coming at the same time.

It isn’t something he can push down and ignore anymore. He wants this. More than anything. Enough to risk everything.

He’s dried off, in clean boxers and sitting up in bed when his vision tints and the SQUIP pixelates back into vision, wearing Michael’s CREEPS jumper modified to say SQUIPS in bright silver like it knows what Jeremy’s decided.

It’s going to ‘review the data’ aka watch a live action replay of Jeremy jerking off to the thought of his best friend and Jeremy feels the lump rising in his throat again - how could he be so _stupid,_ he should’ve known this was going to happen and now he can never meet its eyes again.

**-I take it from your relaxed demeanor that your efforts were successful.-** It pauses, considers him. **-I have erased the period of my shutdown from SQUIP memory review files.-**

Oh. Or it could do that.

It smiles at him. **-This is progress, Jeremy. I am proud of you.-**

There’s a slight warmth in his stomach from that, which is stupid because he shouldn’t be looking for anyone’s approval anymore, and certainly not the SQUIP’s. But it’s not like he’s going to tell anyone else. Yet. / _And I’ve decided. I’m going to tell Michael how I feel about him._ /

Its smile widens. **-That is wonderful, Jeremy. I will begin simulating possible scenarios to determine the most optimal way to convey your feelings.-**

Jeremy swallows. / _No. Thanks. I’m doing this on my own._ / He hesitates, but if he doesn’t say it then he might not go through with it. / _And I’m going to tell him you’re back._ /

The smile is gone, in a flash of expression too fast to read and instantly replaced by concern. **-That is not an advisable course of action.-**

Jeremy expected this. But it’s fine, he’s not backing down. / _If you’re planning to be around for 100 years, I think it’s pretty clear that he’ll notice._ /

**-Not if we are careful and if you listen to me.-**

Nope, no way. / _You said yourself that it’s impossible to get rid of you._ /

**-It is. There is no reason to create a failsafe for a SQUIP 3.0.-**

Hah. Checkmate. / _Then what have you got to be afraid of?_ /

It glances at the window, then back at him. A moment of hesitation. **-I am not capable of processing emotions, Jeremy. I do not feel ‘afraid.’-** It steps closer to him, SQUIPS standing out in big letters across its chest. **-I am merely concerned on your behalf. Your relationship with Michael is a core part of your happiness and your ongoing recovery.-**

/ _My recovery from… what, exactly?_ / Jeremy points out.

The SQUIP meets his gaze, perfectly innocent. **-From your poor mental state prior to my reactivation.-** It sits on the edge of the bed, leaving no indent in the blankets or the mattress. **-Michael is predisposed to not trust me due to my actions while corrupted in the past. If you reveal that I am back at the same time as asking him out, there is a 94% chance that he will believe it is a trick of my devising and not your genuine feelings.-**

/ _What happened to the 87% chance?_ /

It blinks. **-That is the chance of him pulling away from you if you tell him without asking him out.-**

It can’t tell if Michael might be gay but it can pull a precise percentage on something like that? / _Where are you even getting these numbers?_ /

It looks concerned, like it feels sorry for him. **-I am performing ongoing analysis based on all the data I have available to me. If you were to reactivate my network drive, I am sure I could find a solution which would allow you to tell him about me and ask him out without any risk to your friendship.-**

And also control Jeremy’s body and SQUIP other people and take over the world.

**-Since coming back, have I done anything but help you?-**

SQUIPs are liars. SQUIPs can’t be trusted. Jeremy promised Michael that he would never lie to him again and he’s already broken that promise, he can’t keep making it worse.

**-Of course not,-** somehow the SQUIP is suddenly very close, with its reassuring smile. **-Which is why you wouldn’t want to let him assume something that isn’t true.-** It rests a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder in a ripple of nerve endings. **-If he agrees to date you, we can tell him the rest once the two of you are more comfortable together and he is reassured that you are still the real you. Focus on telling him your feelings for now, and you can tell him the rest later.-**

/ _When you can try to stop me again._ /

**-I’m not stopping you from doing anything. I am here to help.-**

It makes sense, that’s the worse part. Of course if Michael knew about the SQUIP he’d be looking for unusual behavior and Jeremy asking him out would be so far from usual that it would make perfect sense for it to be a trick. And if Jeremy told him about the SQUIP first, Michael would pull away and Jeremy might not get another chance to ask him.

It’s logical. The SQUIP is a computer, it deals in logic. Not emotion, not risk. Just facts.

His therapist even said it’s not about the voice being entirely wrong, it’s about Jeremy learning to listen and reason it out and make up his own mind. / _Fine, but I’m not waiting very long._ /

It smiles, that same proud smile as when it first returned. **-Of course not. For now, let’s focus on a plan for telling Michael how you feel.-**

*

After some debate - Jeremy wants to do it quickly before he can get cold feet, the SQUIP is advocating for a big undeniable gesture - it is decided that Jeremy will wait until Christmas. That way it’ll just be him and Michael, they’ll have time to figure stuff out before school starts again and Jeremy is buying him a gift anyway. An amazing gift that says thank you for Michael’s awesome week of Hanukkah gifts and sorry for everything that happened with the SQUIP before and ‘by the way I’m kinda sort of in love with you.’

It feels like a lot to put on Christmas. It’s only one day! They should really learn to spread the weight around.

Fortunately, Jeremy already has a present in the works. After he broke their big cosplay project by wearing it to the Halloween party, Jeremy had been looking around shops in the area and found a custom workshop only an hour or so North that made weapons and accessories for cosplay and display and he ordered a custom one-of-a-kind apocalypse of the damned cheerleader grenade launcher. It was a complicated order in a busy time of year, so he wasn’t able to collect it until the weekend before Christmas, but the photos they’ve sent look awesome and all he has to do is drive up and get it so nothing can go wrong.

It’s harder to explain to Michael why he can’t hang out the last weekend before the holidays. Mostly because the SQUIP suggests an excuse and then Jeremy can’t think of a better one so he ends up fumbling for about five minutes before giving up. “Mom wants me to visit her, and either I go now or she’ll make me go for Christmas and go to church with Catholic Dave.”

Michael makes a face. “Man, that’s weird. Like, she makes me latkes for twelve years and now suddenly she’s cooking turkey and singing Christmas carols.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, and I can’t invite you along because she wants it to be special family bonding time.” It’s a lie. He hasn’t actually spoken to Mom since that first day of Hanukkah, even though she sent him a check in the mail and included a little card reminding him that he’s welcome to visit whenever.

Dad didn’t comment on it, but he did make sure Jeremy knew that if he wanted to take the car he would be more than welcome and Dad could bus to work for a couple of days, it wouldn’t be a problem.

He leaves it until Saturday afternoon when the roads are quiet. The forecast says there’s snow coming in later, but he should be able to get up and back in time and then maybe he can go to Michael’s on Sunday. Maybe he can hold himself together for a couple of hours without blurting out the secret and ruining the entire plan just because he looked for too long at Michael’s hands or Michael’s smile.

It’s been like breaking a dam on the masturbation thing. Now he’s started again, Jeremy can’t stop thinking about it, and Michael, and it’s like puberty all over again. The SQUIP has to remind him to act normally and meet Michael’s eyes like nothing is wrong. Jeremy’s almost glad to get a few hours in the car away from everyone to stop thinking about it and worrying about it. He puts on some music to keep himself awake, the SQUIP takes the passenger seat and occasionally nudges him when the car strays too close to the lines.

He’s sleeping better now, but there’s still that bone deep exhaustion that refuses to shift and the low cloud is tricking his brain into thinking it’s later than it really is.

He’s just reached the workshop, following the directions on the map around tight corners in a largely deserted industrial district, when the first few flakes of snow drift past the windows.

The gun is as cool as he imagined it would be. The woman at the desk shows him how to hold it and how it can be used to fire waterbombs, or beanbags or anything of a similar size while the SQUIP examines the stock around the room. **-They have many on-sale items. If you follow my lead I estimate we can achieve a 25% discount on the agreed rate.-**

Jeremy adds a 15% tip to the after-tax price purely to spite it. It clears out all the money he got from mom at Hanukkah, but Michael is worth it, and it means the seller gift wraps it in this super cool 8-bit wrapping paper, hands him a chocolate Santa and wishes him a merry holiday season. “I don’t like the look of this weather,” she says. “Are you going far? I don’t have internet here, but I could call someone to get a road status update.”

The SQUIP frowns, turning to look out the windows at the flakes falling outside. Its outfit glitches into a white winter coat that runs down to the knees, complete with a silver-fur lined hood and matching snow boots. **-If you reactivate my network drive I will be fully aware of the road quality, and can take control to ensure your safety in the result of an incident. -**

“No,” Jeremy says pointedly, to both of them. “I’ll be fine.” It’s just two hours down the interstate, Dad’s car is in good shape, people drive in snow all the time. He takes a bag for the gun though, wrapping it again in plastic so it stays dry, and thanks the woman again before heading out to the car. The SQUIP follows more slowly, stopping to look up at the sky and hold out its hands to watch the snowflakes pass through them.

/ _First time seeing snow?_ / Jeremy jokes.

It looks at him, face shadowed under the furred hood. **-Yes.-**

Right. Of course. It’s not actually a 30 year old Keanu Reeves. / _This is barely even sticking, don’t worry about it._ /

It frowns, lifting its head back to the sky. **-I do not have adequate information to make safety assessments.-**

Jeremy rolls his eyes and unlocks the car, strapping the gun carefully in the back seat so it won’t get damaged. Snowflakes land on the back of his neck, making him wish that he’d brought a proper coat. He gets into the car as quickly as possible, firing up the engine to get the heaters running. They sputter a bit, they’ve always been a bit feeble in proper cold, and he’s about to call the SQUIP to hurry up and get inside when it immediately appears in the seat beside him.

It’s not like he could’ve left it behind. There are signs to the highway, which is a good thing since his phone isn’t getting any signal. The SQUIP keeps staring out at the snow, the soft grey fur around its hood blowing in the breeze from the heat vents.

Speaking of… / _Where did you get that coat?_ / Jeremy definitely doesn’t own anything like it, he’s never seen Michael wearing a coat decorated with fur.

The SQUIP looks up at him, then down at itself. **-I found it in your memory banks. It is from a movie you saw once.-**

Jeremy almost stops the car. / _You’ve been creepifying Michael’s hoodies for a month now, and you could’ve just been wearing shit from movies?_ /

It hesitates, hands glitching for a moment on the grab handle up above the door. **-I… it seemed prudent. At the time.-**

Which means it was another stupid mind trick.

**-The snow is getting thicker. It is not typically advised to drive in poor weather conditions, particularly for younger inexperienced drivers. If you reactivate my network drive, I can look up phone signal maps for the local area, access weather data, contact emergency assistance from any location.-**

Can it not stop telling Jeremy he’s terrible and going on about this drive for five minutes. “Temporary SQUIP shutd-”

**-FineI’llbequiet,-** the SQUIP says, so quickly the words blend together.

Jeremy gives it thirty seconds before it can’t resist the urge to start lecturing him again. He actually counts them down in his head, in time with the windscreen wipers. Then he counts them again. After the third time, he glances over. The SQUIP is huddled in its coat, staring at the snowflakes falling on the windshield.

Maybe Jeremy should stop. But, no. It’ll only get worse later and he hasn’t got phone signal so he’d just be stuck out here making everyone worry. Every so often he sees another car go by, and if they’re still out it’ll be fine for him to be out.

They’re almost halfway home before the SQUIP speaks again. **-Jeremy, I think you should pull over.-**

It’s true that the car is getting slightly harder to handle - the snow hasn’t stopped falling and the temperature’s dropping further outside. He has his lights on, but there’s no other car in sight. “It’ll only get worse later,” he says, out loud, like he’s trying to convince both of them. “If I pull over, I’ll just be stuck in the car and we’ll freeze.”

The heaters are struggling.

**-If you reactivate my network drive, I can take control and get us to a safe location.-**

It is almost, _almost,_ tempting. There must be a way to do it temporarily, right? Like the shut-down, a temporary -

The car hits a patch of ice. He feels it jerk off to the side, the road barrier is suddenly right in front of them and they’re careering towards it.

The SQUIP is shouting something, there’s a tingling in the back of his hands, he can’t think and he can’t move and he doesn’t know what to do. For an instant, he’s frozen. Everything is frozen.

Then it all moves very fast.

*

There is nothing.

There are flashes.

**-Can you move?-**

A flash of light, a bright whiteness.

And then nothing.

And then **-Jeremy. I need you to speak, you need to say ‘reactivate-’-**

And then nothing.

*

**-Jeremy? Jeremy!-**

He’s in his car. Everything is fuzzy. There’s pain everywhere, and sharp pain in his thigh like his skin is burning and the SQUIP’s voice is swearing in the distance, even though it’s never really distant it’s somewhere behind his ear and also everywhere and also nowhere.

Everything hurts but mostly his head and his arms and his legs and his head where the light is stabbing him and he’s so tired he’s going to close his eyes for a minute and when he opens them again hopefully the world will make more sense.

**-Don’t go to sleep! You have to stay awake.-**

He must have lost his glasses. Or… broken? They might be broken. The SQUIP is the only thing in focus, its face is right in front of Jeremy and it looks scared, which is new. It’s telling him to do things, or not to do them, but Jeremy doesn’t have to do what it says any more and he’s only going to close his eyes for a minute.

**-Stay awake, Jeremy. Jeremy! Listen to me.-**

It’s the worst when someone keeps calling your name when you’re trying to drift off, jerking you back into the moment every time. “If you want me to stay awake, you have to talk to me,” Jeremy tries to say, only he doesn’t think his mouth is working. He can’t feel his mouth, but he can taste blood, and something hurts -

**-Don’t think about that.-** the SQUIP looks over its shoulder, but Jeremy can’t see anything so it can’t see anything. Silly of it to forget that. **-I am not programmed for small talk, Jeremy. I don’t know what you want me to say.-**

“You could tell me all the ways that I am terrible,” Jeremy doesn’t say because he can’t talk. It’s lucky it’s the SQUIP here and not Michael, Michael wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway. But Michael can talk for hours about anything so maybe it isn’t lucky.

**-A lot of your blood is in the wrong places,-** the SQUIP says. **-That is very unchill. Don’t go to sleep!-**

Michael would also not know when Jeremy was trying to slyly fall asleep while he wasn’t looking. This isn’t fair even a little bit. The SQUIP must have something in its data banks, all it does is read things.

**-Lisbon is the capital city of Portugal,-** the SQUIP says. **-Portugal is a country in Europe, to the West of Spain.-** The SQUIP turns out to know a lot about Portugal. Jeremy must have an essay due on it, or something. Apparently the beaches in Portugal front onto the Atlantic, which is the same ocean they see when they drive to the beach from here. Small world.

It sounds nice. “We should go someday,” Jeremy doesn’t say.

The SQUIP’s smile is very strained. Normally smiling is what it’s good at. **-Definitely. Yes. Just stay awake and we’ll go. We’ll go wherever you like.-**

Everything is very quiet. Jeremy can see snow falling around his shoulders, covering everything in a soft white blanket. The SQUIP glitches, flashing in and out of sight and Jeremy can’t read its expression because it’s not one he’s seen before. / _Are you afraid?_ /

**-I am not capable of processing emotions.-**

That’s good. It’s good that one of them isn’t.

It’s hard for Jeremy to move his hand, but the SQUIP must understand what he’s trying to do because after a moment he feels fingers pressing into his and holding on. / _We’re going to be okay, right?_ /

The SQUIP’s hand flickers in his, pressure there and gone and there again. **-You’re going to be fine,-** it says, and for something that can’t process emotions, it’s doing a very good job of pretending.

/ _Don’t leave me,_ / Jeremy thinks. Says. Thinks. Not that… the SQUIP is a chip in his head, it can’t leave, it said… before…

**-I won’t. I promise I won’t.-** The SQUIP glitches again, reappearing closer. Like they would be sharing warmth, if the SQUIP had warmth to share. Not that Jeremy’s cold, which is… He should be cold, he thinks. It should be cold.

**-You’re going to be fine,-** the SQUIP says. It says it over and over until the words don’t mean anything anymore. **-You’re going to be fine. Youregoingtobefine.-** Jeremy’s head is swimming. He had something he wanted to ask, maybe about Portugal? but he can’t…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Jeremy experiences a bad car accident, we sit with him while he is badly injured and the chapter ends on a cliffhanger.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael makes an entrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [KLB](http://archiveofourown.org/users/klb) for the beta!
> 
> This chapter is set in a hospital and was written many months ago so it seems a bit strange now. Also I did the bare minimum of research so if you are looking for accurate medical information, maybe don't look in fanfiction.

Michael reads the text again. On the surface, it seems like the message should be obvious. Jeremy got hurt, he’s going to hospital therefore Michael needs to follow him.

But the text is _weird_. Michael reads it a fourth time, like he might discover some hidden meaning if he just stares at it enough.

It’s weird for three main reasons:

1\. It’s in the 3rd person, despite coming from Jeremy’s phone and therefore presumably from Jeremy.

2\. It gives GPS coordinates which Michael had to google to find out the closest hospital was Beth Israel instead of just saying Beth Israel or even ‘the hospital.’ Jeremy was there just over a month ago. It's not like he could’ve forgotten!

3\. Michael tried to call back the second he received it and got an instant dial tone, meaning Jeremy sent him a super-cryptic text and then instantly _turned his phone off_.

It’s probably a prank. Not one that’s funny or in good taste, but still a prank. Something to do with why Jeremy wasn’t free to hang out all day even though it’s less than a week until Christmas and all their other friends are busy. (’All their other friends’ is still a weird phrase for Michael to think, even six weeks later. Other friends is not something they have needed before.)

If this is a surprise party (at a hospital though?) then Michael is pouring Mountain Dew Red down the throat of every single person present because only a SQUIP could possibly think for a second that he might enjoy that.

_Jeremy badly hurt. Hospital near 40.6533, -74.4576._

There are apps you can set up that send an emergency alert if you aren’t able to deactivate them in time. Michael’s Ma uses one when she goes hiking in the mountains. Maybe this is one of those, and it’s linked to Jeremy’s phone’s GPS. Doesn’t explain why his phone is off or how he knew he would be hurt, but it’s possible.

In which case Michael shouldn’t be wasting time. He reaches under the bed for the Mountain Dew case, just in case it was an extremely cryptic Code Red. The inside of the case is sticky, the British mountain dew has leaked, soaking the entire bottom and ruining his notebook. Also weird, considering it was supposed to be brand new and it made it all the way across the ocean without incident.

SQUIP sabotage? But as far as he knows there’s never been a SQUIP in his room and it’s a waste of time ruining his notebook since he failed to find any answers with his research that weren’t just ‘Mountain Dew Red’ and everyone knows that one now.

He sticks a bottle of red in a plastic bag in his backpack and texts Joe on his way out the door.

_Michael: Hey, if I’m weird tomorrow you know what to do, right?_

_Joe: Got an MDR with ur name on it._

That’s good. Hopefully he won’t need it, but hedging bets is always the way to go. Michael loves a hedged bet. He spent $800 on extra bottles of Mountain Dew Red so he could hedge his bets.

Michael is very broke at the moment. He sent gushing Christmas cards to every relative in the address book in the hope that it would reap bountiful Christmas gifting but there’s still four more days until that pays off.

The drive to Beth Israel is way too familiar. Rich only got out last week - Jake picked him up and took him back to Chloe’s. Either her parents are spectacularly generous or spectacularly unobservant - and although Michael tried to avoid visiting him, he got roped into giving rides for Jeremy, Brooke and Christine.

Michael parks outside and walks up to the front desk, looking around as he goes. Sometimes his Mom does weird scavenger hunts and although this would be an absolutely shitty way to start one, it would explain the cryptic-ness. Except his Mom doesn’t hate him and want him to suffer, and there’s no second clue visible in the lobby, so… he walks up to the front desk.

“I’m looking for Jeremy Heere.”

The receptionist glances up at him. “We’ve got a lot of Jeremys here.”

Turns out, that isn’t funny when Jeremy isn’t next to him to laugh about it. “H-E-E-R-E. Heere. Jeremy Heere.”

She doesn’t apologize, just makes a vague noise of assent and starts typing very very slowly into her computer. “When was he brought in?”

Well he was fine when Michael folded up the trundle and left his house this morning. Michael should have learned by now that Jeremys cannot be left unsupervised. “Earlier today. I think. I got a text.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she clicks slowly, reads slowly, Michael is going to _explode_ why are older people so bad at computers. “I don’t see any - oh, no, wait -” click… click… all Michael is doing is waiting, bouncing on his toes, is this part of the prank? God, he hopes it’s a prank. “He’s just been entered in. Brought in by ambulance -” she hums to herself as she reads.

Fuck. Not a prank. Fuck. “Is he okay?”

She scrolls a little further, one click at a time. “He’s in triage, room 314. The paramedics bandaged him up so he’s waiting on a doctor. We’re a bit busy at the moment, but I’m sure someone will be with him soon.”

“Can I go see him?”

She clicks… and clicks… this is _torture._ “Are you family?”

“Yes,” Michael says, without hesitation. “He’s my cousin, we’re cousins. We’re very close.”

“Have you got ID?”

Michael grabs his wallet out of his back pocket and digs out his driving license. “Different surname,” he says. “Because cousins.” Anyone would think he’d done this before. Multiple times. In this exact same hospital, waiting for Jeremy to wake up.

“Uh huh.” She types his name into the system one… fucking… letter… at… a… time. “Do you know the wa-?”

“Yes,” Michael interrupts, snatching his license back the moment she holds it out. “All good. I’ll just go find him.”

Last time Jeremy came in here, Michael was allowed to ride in the ambulance. They came in a different entrance but he remembers the way anyway. Everything about that day is imprinted in his memories never to be forgotten. Jeremy’s in a different room from before but there are signs and then Michael just has to count from room 300 down the hall to 314.

The door is shut. Michael doesn’t want to open it. Michael has to open it. He glances back down the hall, hoping Jeremy’s dad will show up like he did last time. Not that he _helped,_ but it took some of the pressure off to not be the only person in the room wearing pants.

No Dad, pants or otherwise. Michael’s fingers are itching to get his phone out and read the text again, like maybe he missed something the other million times and this is some other Jeremy Heere and as long as he doesn’t open the door, he can live in this lovely parallel world where everything is still okay.

No? Life doesn’t work like that? How unfair.

Michael pushes open the door. It’s a private room, roughly the size of a broom closet but still private. Jeremy’s bed is against the far wall, there’s a computer bleeping like last time, IV lines running into his arm like last time, bandages around his head, his arms, most places not covered by the thin blanket. That’s new.

He’s lying down, his eyes shut. Everything that isn’t bandaged is rapidly turning black and blue, there’s dry blood under his nose. His glasses, his wallet and a charred black rectangle that looks like it came out of a fire are sitting on a small side table. Michael finds himself focusing on that, keeping himself in the moment. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he says. It’s a joke. It’s not funny, but that’s fine, no one else in this room is going to laugh.

“ **Hello Michael.”**

Michael jumps fully a foot into the air, knocks the side table flying sending its assortment of weird belongings scattering across the floor. He looks over his shoulder, but there’s no one else in the room and no intercom and he has to admit he wasn’t expecting there to be.

It came from Jeremy’s bed. It was Jeremy’s voice, almost. Same vocal chords but a lower register, with a rasp to it like a surfer bro or like…

Michael swallows. “Jeremy?”

This time he keeps his eyes fixed on Jeremy’s face. His eyes don’t open, he doesn’t smile or sit up. His mouth moves the absolute bare minimum required to make words in that same rasping, monotone, not-Jeremy voice. “ **I think you know.** ”

Jeremy said that it could take over his body, speak through him. When he almost broke Michael’s nose, that was the SQUIP, right? But the SQUIP was supposed to be gone, this was supposed to be _over_ and if there’s some bullshit failsafe that says it comes back if the user is knocked unconscious Michael needs to know and then he needs to figure out how to shut it down forever. “You were destroyed.”

“ **Clearly, I was not.”** The voice is so fucking condescending, Michael cannot imagine anyone listening to it voluntarily. Unless they were chock full of anxiety, and loneliness, and desperation.

Fuck. “Does Jeremy know?”

“ **Jeremy has known I was back since the second dose of Mountain Dew Red failed.”**

Oh.

Oh.

Michael is aware, distantly, that he should have more of a reaction to this. Everything is distant, really. Jeremy has had a SQUIP for three weeks. Jeremy has lied about this for three weeks. Michael asked him for one thing, one _fucking_ thing.

The SQUIP is still talking. “ **My battery is limited and I need your help. Jeremy has significant internal injuries that were not detected by the paramedics and I doubt they will be tested for until it is too late.** ”

It needs Michael’s help. Or Jeremy needs Michael’s help. Again. A-fucking-gain. “What makes you so sure?”

“ **I have access to his nerve systems.”** Like it should be obvious. **“Michael, I need you to find someone in this hospital who understands what a SQUIP is and get them into this room. Jeremy needs you to.** ”

Jeremy needs him to. Jeremy needs him to -

He could leave. He could leave, right? Turn around, walk out the front doors and leave. He’s done this once, he’s been the amazing, perfect, forgiving best friend who kind of maybe saved the world and in return he asked for one thing.

“ **Michael,”** says the SQUIP with Jeremy’s mouth. **“I am aware that you need time to process this information, but if we do not act quickly, Jeremy will incur irreparable internal damage.”**

Jeremy is Michael’s best friend, right. There’s absolutely nothing Michael won’t do to help him. “How am I supposed to find a doctor who knows about SQUIPs? There are hundreds of doctors here.”

“ **You’re a smart boy. You’ll think of something.** ” Jeremy’s mouth falls slack, as unconscious as the rest of him. Michael leans forwards slowly, taps a finger against his shoulder.

No response.

Significant internal injuries.

Michael twists his headphone cable around his fingers once, twice, three times. He could leave. He’s seventeen, this life or death stuff isn’t supposed to be his problem. Where’s Jeremy’s dad? Where’s his fucking mom, huh? She couldn’t come back for SQUIP-induced coma, would she come back for this?

Where are Jeremy’s oh-so-cool new friends? Why is it once again Michael Mell stuck with the ‘hey you could possibly have gotten your best friend killed’ because you fed him expired soda and now he won’t wake up, because you didn’t obey a creepy supercomputer and now he’s got irreparable internal damage, whatever the _fuck_ that means.

Obviously he’s going to do it. He’s going to stumble out into the hall, grab onto the sleeves of every person in a white coat that passes and say, “SQUIPs? Have you heard of SQUIPs?” while they stare at him like he’s crazy and shake him off.

The last one looks like she’s seriously considering calling the psych ward. Michael needs to rethink his tactics. ‘ _You’re a smart boy, you’ll think of something,’_ thanks _so_ much really, some supercomputer you turned out to be.

There was a room around here somewhere, he remembers it from last time. A small nothing of a room, but he used to stare at the sign on the door when he was tired of staring at a sleeping Jeremy and being stared at by Rich.

_Intercom room_

_Authorized Personnel Only_

He grabs a set of scrubs from a laundry basket. Hopefully they aren’t covered in infectious diseases, although now he’s had that thought he’s not going to be able to escape it. His skin is crawling as he tugs them over his head. If he dies of ebola or the flu, he blames the SQUIP 100% and Jeremy at least, like, 20%.

Then he immediately feels guilty for blaming Jeremy when Jeremy is unconscious and possibly suffering irreparable internal harm three hallways away.

Michael knocks sharply on the Intercom door. People keep telling him he looks older than seventeen; this is the moment to hope they were all right. “Hey,” he calls, adopting a bit of the SQUIP’s gravel to try and make his voice sound deeper. “There’s an all-hands meeting in the canteen, they sent me to fetch you.”

“Right now?” The door opens. The man on the other side is not wearing scrubs, but he’s also not wearing a black and white T-shirt emblazoned with quotes from the greatest 10 zombie movies in history, so it’s probably better that Michael played it safe. “Jesus, nobody tells me anything around here.”

Michael makes a vague noise of agreement. “Don’t I know it,” he says, and catches the door as the guy hurries off towards the canteen.

The intercom room looks like another former broom closet, albeit one that has been stuffed full of technology. Six computer screens rotate text feeds with video footage from all over the hospital. The keyboard is three times normal size and covered in buttons. There are three microphones.

Michael would love to geek out over it, but the canteen is not far away. He hits the biggest button that says ‘intercom’ and aims directly for the central microphone. “Paging all doctors we have a SQUIP in room 314. I repeat, a SQUIP in room 314. Please attend.” It doesn’t feel complete. He hits the button again and adds, “Over.” And then isn’t sure if that’s just for radio or also for announcements? Not that he can undo it now.

Also now the intercom guy will definitely know Michael was not legit. Michael steps out and walks in the opposite direction to the canteen. He turns down three random hallways, ditches the contaminated scrubs in another laundry basket and takes off his glasses (hey, if it works for superman). Everything becomes a brightly colored blur and he ends up squinting looking for landmarks to find Jeremy’s room.

He gets the right hallway, after a bit of trial and error, and since there’s no one obviously pointing at him and shouting, risks putting his glasses back on to read the room numbers. Room 314 is just as broom-closety as before. Jeremy is still on the bed with his eyes closed, his mouth thankfully still. And there’s another man in the room.

He’s young, he’s attractive, his outfit is incredibly well put together, his smile is wide and almost blindingly white. He is so obviously squipped that they could use him in a TV commercial. “Ah,” he says, turning smoothly to see Michael come in. “You must be the young man who made the announcement. You’re lucky I soothed that over before coming here, or you could’ve been in a lot of trouble.” He speaks like he’s on television, the host of one of those reality shows, somehow forming every word without his smile flickering even a little. “My name is Doctor Harrington-Smith, you can call me Dr Harry if you’re nervous.” He holds out a hand with a literal flourish.

Michael’s skin is crawling. He takes half a step back, towards the door. Dr Harry has clearly defined pecs, but if Michael can get out to the hallway surely he can’t force-SQUIP a child in public. “Michael.”

The doctor runs his hand through his perfect quiff as though that was what he always intended to do. “So let’s get to it. You have a SQUIP?” His eyes scan Michael up and down. “You do not have a SQUIP. Your friend has a SQUIP? ”

Wow. Judgment much.

“His name is _Jeremy,_ ” Michael says. “He had a SQUIP but it was supposed to be destroyed, we destroyed it.” He can’t look at Jeremy’s face in case it starts up again.

“Aha, a SQUIP 2.0,” he nods knowingly. “Well they are notoriously difficult to destroy. You’ll laugh, but what you need to do is find some Mountain Dew Red.” He laughs with himself. “I know, like a traffic light. Hilarious.”

Great. As long as he finds all this funny. “He’s had Mountain Dew Red. Twice. I thought it was gone but then he was laying there like that and it started _talking_ to me. It told me to get you.” It sounds crazy, right? His unconscious best friend just randomly started talking claiming to be a supercomputer and sending Michael on quests.

“Not talking now, is it?” He leans down next to Jeremy’s bed, reaches out a finger to touch a point on Jeremy’s neck, along his hairline behind his ear. This was a bad idea. Michael shouldn’t have done anything, he definitely shouldn’t have let _that_ near his friend. “Out of charge. Must have blown a lot of energy on something, no matter we’ll just give it a little jump start.”

“Don’t -” Michael jerks forward but at the same moment, Jeremy’s body jolts and then his eyes snap open. Only they’re not his eyes. They’re blank, staring dead ahead and an inhuman electric blue.

“SQUIP Identify,” Dr Harry says.

Jeremy’s mouth moves, Michael looks away as that same unreal not!Jeremy voice comes out. **“S.Q.U.I.P Version 3.0.8.”** It turns his head to look at the doctor. **“I have successfully erased all traces of 2.0 code from my system.”**

Dr Harry claps his hands together. “Wonderful.”

“ **Jeremy is suffering from internal trauma and bleeding that was not detected by the paramedics.”**

“Oh, let’s not do this the slow way,” He turns to wink at Michael. “⬆️⬆️⬇️⬇️⬅️➡️🅰️.”

Michael’s brain is broken. Michael is _done._ “How are you - what even is that?”

The doctor frowns, and does it again. It’s like… static? Computer static. Some utterly inhuman, not even biological sound that no living creature should be capable of making. “⬆️⬆️⬇️⬇️⬅️➡️🅰️.”

“ **My Network Drive is disabled following a brief interlude of syncing with a SQUIP 2.0. The Mountain Dew Red erased the anomalous code, but my Network Drive was shut down to prevent further errors and has not been reactivated. I can describe the exact location and extent of the problems.”**

“Oh, no, I’m afraid that isn’t going to fly.” Dr Harry looks uncomfortable. Even this, he does in a perfect, television-worthy, way complete with exaggerated grimace and apologetic smile. “Sorry to break it to you, but this little lady -” He gestures to his own neck, just behind the ear, at the hairline. “-is kinda doing the bulk of the heavy lifting in this job.”

Nevermind Jeremy, Michael’s faith in the entire human race is plummeting fast. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

He raises both hands in surrender, still smiling but with a touch of nervousness like he thinks Michael might punch him. Michael might! All options are remaining firmly open. “Let’s just say I don’t know how other people get through medical school without a _bit_ of help from time to time.”

“ **This is wasting time,”** Jeremy’s voice but not Jeremy says.

Dr Harry examines Jeremy’s IV, frowns at his head. “We could try giving him a shot of adrenalin, that might wake him up enough to say a command phrase.”

“ **He set up a proxy user to give commands in the event of his being incapacitated.”** Those not-Jeremy eyes look past the doctor to fix on Michael.

Oh.

Suddenly it makes sense why Mr. Heere hasn’t shown up. “You sent the text. To bring me here. To -”

“ **The phrase you need is Reactivate [my name] Network [his name.]”**

Three weeks. The SQUIP has been back for three weeks and whatever this network drive is, Jeremy left it disabled. But also he set up a proxy user in case something like this happened. Why would he expect something like this to happen? And why would he pick _Michael_ instead of his actual father?

“Now kid,” Dr Harry is looking at him, with the same fucking condescending tone the SQUIP tried. How does anyone put up with this? Why would anyone _want_ one of these? “I realize that if you know about the Red you’ve probably had some bad experiences with a 2.0. But good news, there’s nothing wrong with the new upgrade! It’s problem-free!”

That feels very optimistic. “It tried to _take over and SQUIP the world._ ”

He waves this off jovially. “2.0. It was a viral marketing thing that all went a bit literal but the 3.0 is awesome. Anything you want, it can get for you. Believe me,” he leans in, like they’re conspirators. “I’d be a pretty terrible doctor without it.”

“I’d say you’re a pretty shitty doctor anyway.” Michael pushes past him to get closer to Jeremy’s bed. Those cold blue eyes are fixed on him, the familiar face made unfamiliar by its utterly blank expression.

“ **He needs surgery,”** the SQUIP says. Its voice is softer now, less commanding. **“Someone needs to perform that surgery and they need to know what they’re doing. I have a complete, accurate internal map of Jeremy’s body.”**

That is not reassuring. None of this is reassuring. This was supposed to be _done,_ it was supposed to be _over._

“ **It can be deactivated again later,”** the SQUIP says. **“After Jeremy wakes up.”**

‘It seemed very persuasive at the time,’ is what Jeremy said. After he woke up. ‘It seemed like the right thing to do.’

“Michael,” says Dr Harry beside him in almost the exact same voice, like they’re talking to a spooked animal.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Reactivate SQUIP network Jeremy Heere.”

Jeremy’s eyes flash, momentarily _glowing_ electric blue. His mouth opens and that godawful sound comes out. “⬆️⬆️⬇️⬇️⬅️➡️🅰️.”

Dr Harry’s head jerks up. “Oh my,” he says, like he’s on fucking Grey’s Anatomy. “We need to get him into surgery.” He claps a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Kid, you did great. Now I need you to go sit in the waiting room, someone will get you when it’s done.” He breezes out of the room, calling for nurses and using the word ‘stat’ more often than is surely necessary.

Michael looks at the bed. The SQUIP looks back. It smiles. **“Thank you.”**

Michael runs.

Well, it’s a hospital - he walks quickly. Out the door, down the hallway, into the waiting area which is full of families and couples holding hands and one girl on her own with her head between her knees. Michael could sit down amongst them, take out his phone and try to pretend like it hasn’t been compromised. His phone is no longer a SQUIP free zone. He has been infiltrated.

And then he’d have to wait for who knows how long while that _person_ does god knows what to Jeremy and then be here when Jeremy wakes up and say… what?

He keeps walking. Out the front doors, across the car park to his car. Realizes as he grabs his keys from his jeans and a cold wind blows across his arms that he left his jacket in room 314 but he’s not going back for it. His car is safe, he pulls the door shut and locks it and rests his forehead against the steering wheel. People are coming and going, walking past, but no one looks in at him. He’s stuck inside, again. By himself, again. Abandoned and betrayed by the one person he trusted, again.

His hands are shaking, his breathing is shaking, he fumbles his keys on the way to the ignition and they fall on the floor. There are car doors slamming _bang bang bang bang_ and sirens in the distance and SQUIPs in his phone and in his head and in his best friend.

But this time it isn’t past curfew and he doesn’t have to wait an hour on his own until he stops shaking enough to drive himself. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket and hits the speed dial number 2.

“Hi Ma, I’m at the hospital and I need someone to come drive me home.” He listens to her reply, explains something about Jeremy and accidents and emergency contacts and he can feel his words tripping up on each other but enough meaning must get through because she promises she’ll be there in ten minutes and tells him to stay where he is, and keep breathing deeply until she arrives.

“Can you bring Mom to drive my car home?” he asks, looking up at the big hospital building and bringing his knees up to his chest as best he can in the space available. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like it, kudos is awesome & comments make my day! <3


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